Widow  Guthrie 


RICHARD  MALCOLM  JOHNSTON 


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vV.  I(e /^  tie 


Widow  Guthrie. 


Z£[idow  Guthrie 


A   NOVEL 


BY 


RICHARD    MALCOLM   JOHNSTON 


ILLUSTRATED    BY    E.    \V.    KEMBLE 


NEW    YORK 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1893 


Copyright,  1890, 

Bt  d.  appleton  and  company. 


TO   THOSE 

SURVIVORS    AMONG    THE   ASSOCIATES    OF   MY    YOUTH 

TO  WHOM,   AS   TO   ME, 

THE  OLD   GEORGIA   SEEMS   TO   HAVE   BEEN 

MORE   HAPPY   THAN   THE    NEW, 

THIS  VOLUME  IS  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED. 


M2937! 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

PAGE 

,     12 

.    16 

,     23 

,     36 

VI.  Miss  Jewell  at  Duncan  Guthrie's 

.    49 

59 

VIII.  A  Picnic 

.     07 

,     75 

.     84 

93 

105 

XIII.  Alice  interposes  for  the  Stapletons 

.  117 

XIV.  At  the  Macfarlanes 

.  121 

XV.  Mrs.  Guthrie  goes  to  Little  River 

.  130 

XVI.  Mrs.  Guthrie  with  her  Dead 

.  136 

XVII.  Mr.  Bond  is  retained 

.  146 

XVIII.  Inquiries  about  Alan  Guthrie's  Wil 

L 

.  161 

XIX.  Guthrie  confers  with  his  Uncle  . 

.  174 

XX.  The  Executrix's  Defense 

.  179 

XXI.  The  Need  of  Counsel     . 

.  193 

204 

iv  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIII.  Mrs.  Buck 215 

XXIV.  Mr.  Ludwell  interposes 228 

XXV.  Seaborn  Torrance 233 

XXVI.  Mr.  Torrance  goes  to  Clarke 241 

XXVII.  Mr.  Torrance  becomes  Leading  Counsel  .        .        .  249 

XXVIII.  Bond  undertakes  Another  Case        ....  259 

XXIX.  The  Correspondence  of  Bond  and  Guthrie      .        .  267 

XXX.  Sister's  Perry 274 

XXXI.  The  Return  of  Guthrie 286 

XXXII.  Another  Hostile  Meeting 292 

XXXIII.  Regrets:  a  Late  Revival  of  Affection    .        .        .  296 

XXXIV.  Dismissal  of  the  Suit  .        .        .       ■ .        .        .        .301 
XXXV.  Alice  returns  to  Broad  River 304 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


FACINC1 
PAGE 

Widow  Guthrie Frontispiece 

"  I  got  a  little  business  with  you,  Mr.  Guthrie  "  .        .47 

In  the  afternoon  Marcus  walked  about  the  premises       .        .     94 

Alice 121 

Lawyer  Torrance  and  Mrs.  Junkin 2."j0 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  Dr.  Anton,  "  Mr.  Bond  has  been  wounded  "    .  27? 


WIDOW   GUTHRIE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CLAKKE. 

Among  those  Yirginians  who,  some  before,  others 
after  the  War  of  Independence,  settled  upon  the  fertile 
lands  bordering  on  Broad  River,  in  the  State  of  Georgia, 
were  the  Guthries,  Macfarlanes,  and  Ludwells.  With 
considerable  properties  at  their  coming,  they  had  availed 
themselves  of  abundant  opportunities,  and  become  what 
was  then  regarded  wealthy.  Dennis  Macfarlane,  when 
about  thirty-five,  married  Louisa  Pollard,  whose  people 
had  come  into  the  settlement  later.  Alan  Guthrie,  con- 
siderably his  senior,  five  or  six  years  after,  being  a  child- 
less widower  of  fifty,  took  to  wife  Hester  Pollard,  who 
was  ten  years  older  than  her  sister.  Some  time  prior 
to  the  incidents  hereinafter  narrated,  the  brothers-in- 
law,  while  holding  and  continuing  to  work  their  planta- 
tions, removed  a  day's  journey  south  to  Clarke,  a  village 
of  about  five  hundred  inhabitants,  situated  on  an  ele- 
vated plain  sixty  miles  west  of  Augusta.  Mr.  Macfar- 
lane built  a  large  handsome  two-story  frame  dwelling 
in  a  spacious  grove  of  red  oak  and  hickory  at  the  west 
end ;  and  Mr.  Guthrie  did  the  like  at  the  east,  his  wide 
piazza  contrasting,  well  with. the  deep  portico  and  lofty 


8  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

Doric  pillars  of  Mr.  Macfarlane's.  Of  the  three  Mac- 
farlane  children,  only  Charlotte,  lately  come  to  woman- 
hood, remained  with  her  parents,  her  older  brothers, 
James  and  Malcolm,  both  married,  dwelling  upon  their 
plantations,  which  had  been  assigned  to  them  by  their 
father  off  the  large  tract  owned  by  himself.  Ten  years 
back  Alan  Guthrie  deceased,  leaving  his  widow  and 
his  two  minor  children,  Caroline  and  Duncan.  Caro- 
line was  now  wife  to  John  Stapleton,  a  planter  of  mod- 
erate means,  living  near  Little  River,  ten  miles  below 
the  village.  Her  brother,  somewhat  more  than  a  year 
back,  had  married  Alice  Ludwell,  who,  with  Charlotte 
Macfarlane,  had  but  lately  returned  from  Mrs.  Willard's 
school  at  Troy,  Xew  York.  These  were  living  in  a 
red  brick  house  with  white  piazza  about  two  hundred 
yards  from  the  street  extending  north,  at  half  a  mile's 
distance  from  the  court  house  square. 

A  church  building,  commodious  and  reasonably  taste- 
ful, had  been  erected  by  each  of  the  religious  denomina- 
tions, Baptist,  Methodist,  and  Presbyterian,  and,  chiefly 
through  the  enterprise  of  Mr.  Macfarlane  and  Mr. 
Guthrie,  a  large  sightly  academy  for  girls.  This  insti- 
tution, after  a  varied  experience,  had  lately  risen  into 
much  reputation  under  the  management  of  Mr.  "Wen- 
dell, a  Boston  man — large,  erect,  of  light  complexion, 
thoroughly  educated  in  books,  manners,  and  discipline 
— and  now  it  had  near  a  hundred  and  twenty  pupils, 
more  than  half  of  whom  were  boarders.  The  head 
master  dwelt  in  a  roomy,  irregular  mansion  opposite 
that  of  Mrs.  Alan  Guthrie.  Boarding  with  his  family, 
besides  a  dozen  girls,  was  Miss  Sarah  Jewell,  his  cousin, 
who  had  lately  come  to  be,  with  Anna  Wendell,  his 


CLARKE.  9 

daughter — a  rather  petite  brunette — an  assistant  in  the 
school,  particularly  in  music,  drawing,  and  painting. 
Entirely  faithful  to  her  school  engagements,  for  which 
she  was  known  to  be  more  than  competent,  she  was 
much  more  gay  than  Anna  Wendell,  and  more  fond  of 
being  in  society,  with  the  best  of  which  she  soon  became 
familiar.  Until  her  coming  Charlotte  Macfarlane  had 
been  regarded  as  perhaps  the  best  musician  and  the 
beauty  of  the  village,  although  if  Alice  Guthrie  had  not 
been  a  married  woman  judgment  on  neither  of  these 
accomplishments  might  have  been  unanimous.  Yet 
Charlotte,  of  similar  make  to  the  New  Englander, 
blonde  like  her,  though  less  tall,  from  the  beginning 
seemed  willing  to  accord  to  her  all  that  was  due. 

Duncan  Guthrie  was  a  graduate  of  Yale.  A  lawyer, 
he  gave  promise  of  making  a  good  professional  career 
if  he  should  rid  himself  of  some  drawbacks  which  were 
attributed  to  the  well-known  fact  of  being  his  mother's 
favorite,  expectant  of  a  large  fortune  from  her  and  an- 
other from  his  father-in-law.  About  five  feet  ten,  fair, 
excellently  rounded  in  shape,  always  tasteful  in  dress, 
fascinating  in  speech,  he  had  won  Alice  Ludwell  more 
easily  perhaps  because  the  seriousness  in  her  being  had 
need  to  be  joined  with  what  it  felt  to  be  wanting.  Of 
medium  height,  not  a  blonde,  yet  not  quite  a  brunette, 
her  smooth  white  face  that  lit  up  sometimes,  not  very 
often,  with  redness,  harmonized  with  her  brown  hair 
and  browner  eyes.  Her  voice  was  sweet,  and  when  she 
smiled,  whether  while  talking  or  listening,  people  re- 
garded her  as  beautiful  as  she  was  lovely. 

Sixty  years  ago  the  controlling  tone  of  society  in 
Clarke  and  three  or  four  neighboring  county  seats  was 


10  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

high.  Not  avowedly  or  conventionally  aristocratic,  it 
could  not  fail  to  be  so  to  a  degree  natural  and  fit  from 
the  easy  superiority  of  a  few  families  of  wealth  and 
culture  whose  forbears  in  the  old  State  were  known  to 
have  been  among  the  best.  It  had  not  to  be  aggressive 
or  supercilious  in  order  to  support  natural  and  neces- 
sary leadership.  It  was  somewhat  more  exclusive  in 
the  villages  than  in  rural  districts  as  will  be  seen 
farther  on,  yet  even  here  its  ascendency  was  as  well 
marked.  Mr.  Macfarlane,  now  sixty-five,  would  not 
have  owned  that  he  regarded  himself  better  than  any 
other  honest  born,  honorable  man  ;  yet  many  a  one  of 
this  sort,  after  calling  upon  him  at  his  residence  about  a 
matter  of  business,  feeling  for  the  time  being  sufficiently 
at  his  ease,  when  the  business  was  over,  chose  to  leave 
rather  than  remain,  with  a  consciousness  that  his  com- 
pany could  add  little  to  that  gentleman's  enjoyment. 
Yet  that  very  man  looked  up  to  him  with  affection  as 
well  as  respect,  and  would  elect  him  over  any  of  his 
own  likes  to  offices  of  public  trust.  Mrs.  Macfarlane 
once  small,  dainty  of  shape,  had  taken  on  a  fleshiness  not 
uncomely.  She  had  a  gentle  disposition  that  always 
had  yielded  cheerful  assent  to  her  husband's  rule,  yet 
kept  her  individuality  and  the  loyal  love  and  admira- 
tion that  she  had  won  from  him.  Between  her  and 
her  sister,  intercourse,  never  very  affectionate,  had  been 
less  so  since  her  marriage,  still  less  since  the  latter's 
widowhood.  Mrs.  Guthrie,  much  taller  and  stouter, 
was  of  imperious  temper,  and  had  always  seemed  to 
regard  her  junior  as  much  below  herself  in  other  re- 
spects as  she  was  in  physical  structure.  They  visited 
each  other  at  intervals  decent  enough  considering  that 


CLARKE.  11 

the  elder  seldom  went  abroad,  and,  if  for  no  other  rea- 
son than  that  Mrs.  Macfarlane  could  not  have  been 
drawn  into  disputes,  they  never  had  them.  Indeed, 
Mrs.  Guthrie  during  her  widowhood  had  grown  to 
doubt  if  in  business  matters  Mr.  Macfarlane,  despite 
his  reputation  in  that  line,  was  fully  her  equal,  and  this 
thought  had  added  to  her  reconciliation  to  an  old  disap- 
pointment. The  estate  left  by  her  husband,  at  his 
death  about  equal  to  that  of  Mr.  Macfarlane,  through 
the  management  of  herself  as  executrix,  had  grown  to 
be  at  least  twenty  per  cent  larger  than  his,  a  fact  of 
which,  she  was  not  sure  that  he  was  not  rather  ashamed. 
In  her  the  feeling  of  class  was  more  pronounced  than  in 
any  other  in  that  whole  region,  not  even  excepting  her 
son  Duncan.  Proud  of  the  ancient  connection  of  her 
family  and  its  set  with  the  English  Church,  she  despised 
the  sects  which  were  overrunning  that  region  to  the 
bane,  as  she  believed,  of  honest  religion  and  good  soci- 
ety. She  attended  with  some  regularity  public  relig- 
ious services,  mainly  in  the  Presbyterian  Church,  but 
her  demeanor  even  then,  cold  and  rigid,  indicated  that 
she  was  there  because  of  no  opportunity  of  attending 
a  more  decent  worship  elsewhere.  Untiring  in  energy, 
exacting  of  service  from  subordinates,  a  lender  of  mon- 
eys at  the  highest  interest  possible  and  a  shaver  of  notes 
at  the  lowest,  eager  to  restlessness  for  the  accumulation 
of  property,  yet  she  kept  the  most  costly  establishment 
in  town,  her  servants  were  most  devoted  to  her,  and 
although  she  never  went  to  a  party  of  pleasure,  she 
occasionally  gave  one  as  if  to  let  people  see  that  she 
could  get  up  such  a  thing  and  conduct  it  better  than 
any  other  woman  of  their  acquaintance. 


12  WIDOW  GUTHRIE.      ' 

Between  such  a  woman  and  her  daughter-in-law 
relations  could  not  be  very  closely  affectionate,  although 
the  former  was  well  pleased  at  her  son's  marriage.  As 
if  in  foresight  of  this,  she  provided  a  residence  for 
them  to  occupy  and  everything  needed  for  their  living 
in  comfortable,  even  luxurious  style,  and  she  hoped, 
even  to  anxiety,  that  the  bride  would  never  subtract 
from  the  affection  of  Duncan  for  herself,  a  possession 
prized  above  all  others.  Of  her  relations  toward  her 
daughter  I  will  tell  later. 


CHAPTER   II. 


THOMAS    TOLLY. 


Among  other  native  families  of  proximate  if  not 
quite  equal  social  rank  with  the  two  aforementioned  were 
the  Jamisons,  whose  home  was  picturesquely  situated 
between  the  court  house  square  and  the  Macfarlanes. 
Arthur  Jamison,  never  an  eloquent  advocate,  but  always 
a  reliable  counselor,  when  at  seventy  would  have  liked 
to  retire  on  the  sufficient  fortune  gathered  in  a  long 
professional  career,  and  now,  three  years  later,  he  re- 
gretted that  he  had  not  done  so.  One  day  he  said  to 
Alfred,  his  son  and  partner,  for  whose  sake  he  had  been 
lingering  this  while  in  what  he  had  hoped  would  be,  or 
at  least  appear,  a  merely  nominal  connection  : 

"  Alfred,  I'm  going  to  do  at  Christmas  what  I  see 
now  that  I  ought  to  have  done  when  you  came  to  the 


THOMAS  TOLLY.  13 

bar.  I  made  the  same  mistake  as  many  old  lawyers 
who  think  to  bring  on  their  sons  faster  by  hanging  on 
to  their  offices  after  it  has  got  to  be  time  for  them  to 
retire.  I  lind  that  I've  been  doing  you  more  harm 
than  good,  to  say  nothing  of  failing  of  the  rest  to  which 
I  think  that  an  old  man  who  has  worked  as  hard  as  I 
have  is  entitled.  oSTot  only  our  clients  depend  upon  me, 
but  you  also.  That  must  stop  at  the  end  of  this  year. 
If  you  are  ever  to  be  a  lawyer  you've  got  to  lean  only 
on  yourself." 

The  young  man  did  not  complain.  There  was  too 
much  of  acquired  prosperity  in  the  family  for  that. 
Amiable,  gentlemanlike  in  all  his  ways,  he  did  not 
neglect  business,  and  went  along  as  if  satisfied  with 
what  progress  he  was  making. 

Much  faster  was  the  rise  of  Thomas  Tolly,  son  of  a 
plain  farmer  on  Little  River.  After  graduating  at  the 
State  College  and  studying  law  in  the  office  of  the 
Jamisons,  he  had  rented  one  in  the  court  house,  and, 
although  only  two  years  at  the  bar,  had  made  several 
good  hits  by  his  management  of  cases  which,  not  very 
important  as  to  the  amount  of  money  in  litigation,  re- 
quired talent,  learning,  and  skill  to  conduct  to  successful 
issues.  He  was  not  quick  to  part  from  country  man- 
ners and  especially  country  speech,  for  the  latter  of 
which  many  men  of  highest  eminence  in  the  rural 
region  used  to  have  much  fondness.  Rather  tall,  bushy 
haired,  stalwart,  not  unhandsome,  he  moved  with  satis- 
factory ease  in  the  best  company  to  which  his  ac- 
knowledged abilities  gave  him  access,  and  he  did  not 
seem  to  feel  it  worth  while  to  be  in  a  hurry  to  obtain 
the  position,  professional  or  social,  to  which  his  hopes 


14  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

pointed.  The  one  there  least  cordial  toward  him  was 
Guthrie.  lie  seemed  to  like  not  that  an  awkward 
youth  fresh  from  the  country,  about  whose  ancestors  not 
even  any  of  the  family  had  anything  special  to  say,  the 
property  of  whose  father,  although  respectable,  in  com- 
parison with  the  Guthrie  and  other  like  estates  was 
scant,  who  had  never  been  further  from  home  than 
Athens,  the  seat  of  the  State  College,  fifty  miles  dis- 
tant, should  demean  as  if  he  felt  himself  to  be  any- 
body's equal. 

"  I  think  I  have  about  sized  Tolly,"  he  said  one  day 
at  his  home  to  Charlotte  Macfarlane.  "  He  has  a  right 
good  education  and  some  talent,  which,  if  he  wasn't  so 
well  satisfied  already,  might  lead  to — to  a  reasonable 
height.  But  the  luck  he  has  had  in  a  few  petty  cases, 
and  the  praise  he  has  got  from  Judge  Ansley,  who  com- 
pliments every  young  lawyer  at  the  start,  have  turned 
his  head  and  even  kept  him  from  trying  to  get  rid  of 
his  country  manners.  He  believes  his  standing  at  the 
bar  and  in  society  to  be  good  enough  already.  He  won 
a  case  from  me  last  court  because  the  judge  ruled  plainly 
against  the  law ;  and  it  put  him  into  such  glee  that  but 
for  the  presence  of  the  Court  I  should  have  said  to  him 
that  he  was  making  much  of  a  very  small  matter." 

"  I  think  he  is  handsome  and  right  interesting,  don't 
you,  Alice  ? "  said  Charlotte. 

"  Yes,  rather  good-looking.  I've  not  seen  very  much 
of  him  ;  but  he  impressed  me  as  an  uncommonly  intelli- 
gent, simple-minded,  earnest,  upright  young  man.  I 
think  he's  handsomer  than  when  I  first  knew  him." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Guthrie,  "let  a  young  man  have 
moderately  good  looks,  be  tolerably  smart,  known  to  be 


THOMAS  TOLLY.  15 

ambitious,  and  single  withal — these  are  enough  to  win 
the  admiration  of  young  women,  married  or  unmarried.'' 

"  And  that  speech,"  retorted  Charlotte,  "  was  made 
by  a  married  man — married  to  the  finest  woman  in  town 
— who,  more  than  any  unmarried  man  that  I  have  heard, 
praises  the  beauty  and  vivacity  of  Miss  Jewell." 

Guthrie  glanced  at  his  wife,  whose  downward  look 
showed  that  these  words  were  not  pleasing  to  her  ear. 
The  girl  hastened  to  qualify  them  by  saying  : 

"  I  was  exaggerating  there,  Cousin  Duncan  ;  but,  in- 
deed, I  can't  see  how  anybody,  man  or  woman,  can  help 
admiring  Miss  Jewell.  I  regard  her  as  rather  the  most 
variously  gifted  woman  that  I  ever  knew." 

He  waited  for  his  wife  to  reply. 

"  Miss  Jewell  is  beautiful,"  said  the  latter,  "  very, 
and  an  excellent  pianist.  I  should  admire  her  more 
but  for  what  seemed  to  me  the  few  times  I  have  met 
her  rather  too  much  consciousness  of  her  gifts ;  for  in- 
stance, at  Mrs.  Jamison's  that  evening  last  week,  I 
thought  she  was  somewhat  patronizing  toward  Anna 
"Wendell,  who,  quite  accomplished  herself,  is  very  mod- 
est. Then,  candidly,  though  I  would  not  think  of  say- 
ing such  a  thing  to  anybody  except  you  and  Duncan 
and  perhaps  Sister  Caroline,  she  acts,  at  least  to  my 
view,  as  if  she  had  a  greater  preference  for  men's  over 
women's  society  than  to  me  seems  quite  becoming." 

"  O  Alice  !  "  said  Charlotte,  "  I  don't  think  you  do 
her  full  justice.  She  and  Anna  love  each  other  dearly, 
and  Anna  bears  as  she  ought,  to  my  notion,  her  cousin's 
efforts  to  make  her  put  herself  at  more  ease  in  com- 
pany. Miss  Jewell  does  like  men's  society,  when  they 
are  bright  like  Cousin  Duncan,  and — yes  I'll  say  like 


16  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

Mr.  Tolly,  and  I  have  frequently  heard  her  express 
much  admiration  for  both.  Her  freedom  from  con- 
straint is  simply  the  outcome  of  usage  in  good  city  so- 
ciety, which  allows  a  woman,  of  course  within  just  limits, 
to  feel  as  much  at  ease,  and  have  as  much  enjoyment  in 
men's  company  as  in  that  of  women.  /  like  the  society 
of  nice  men  myself  ;  that  I  do." 

"  I  am  glad  you  hold  such  a  good  opinion  of  her," 
said  Alice.  "  I  am  sure  I  would  not  do  her  wanton  in- 
justice. Indeed,  it  troubles  me  to  feel  that  I  may  have 
done  it,  even  unintentionally." 

At  this  period  she  was  not  quite  well.  The  death 
of  a  child  on  the  day  of  its  birth  three  months  before 
was  a  sore  distress.  "With  no  suspiciousness  in  her  na- 
ture, yet  about  this  young  woman,  whom  she  had  met 
less  often  than  her  husband,  she  felt  an  indefinite  ap- 
prehension, which  it  would  have  been  better  if  he  had 
respected. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE    WENDELLS    GIVE    A    TARTY. 

In  acknowledgment  of  the  attentions  paid  to  their 
cousin,  the  Wendells  gave  a  party  about  two  months 
after  her  arrival.  Though  not  expensive,  everything 
was  in  good  taste.  Miss  Jewell  showed  to  much  ad- 
vantage. Her  dressing  and  the  arrangement  of  her 
hair  were  in  perfect  taste,  giving  the  best  possible  ex- 
pression to  her  fine  head  and  almost  matchless  figure, 


THE  WENDELLS  GIVE  A  PARTY.  17 

Guthrie's  admiration,  notwithstanding  the  presence  of 
his  wife,  was  apparently  without  bounds.  As  often  as  he 
could  he  put  himself  between  her  and  Tolly  or  Alfred 
Jamison,  or  other  beaus,  and  did  his  best  to  attract  her 
special  attention  throughout  the  evening,  except  when 
she  was  in  conversation  with  his  wife.  At  such  times 
upon  his  face  appeared  some  shadow  of  impatience. 
Alice,  as  I  shall  speak  of  her  hereafter  to  distinguish 
from  her  mother-in-law,  was  exquisitely  dressed  in  a 
gray  silk  gown  modestly  decked  with  laces  and  flow- 
ers. Though  not  quite  well,  and  sitting  in  a  corner  of 
the  parlor  during  most  of  the  evening,  she  accepted 
with  accustomed  politeness  attentions  from  all,  men 
and  women,  who  came  where  she  was,  and  she  seemed 
as  if  she  was  enjoying  everything  more  than  she  had  ex- 
pected. Miss  Jewell  several  times  lingered  while  pass- 
ing to  one  and  another  of  the  guests,  and  seemed  as  if 
she  would  like  to  be  specially  considerate  of  her.  Alice 
received  her  as  the  rest  of  the  company,  but  what  she 
had  to  say  in  praise  of  the  entertainment  she  said  to 
the  members  of  the  family.  Occasionally  a  pained 
expression,  but  only  of  momentary  duration,  was  upon 
her  face  while  looking  at  her  husband  ;  but  she  in- 
stantly addressed  some  person  near  her  a  remark,  play- 
ful as  conscientious  politeness  could  make.  Perhaps 
only  Charlotte  guessed  at  the  reason  for  this.  If  Miss 
Jewell  did,  she  behaved  as  though  she  did  not.  Tet  it 
was  from  regard  for  others  rather  than  for  herself  that 
Alice  tried  thus  to  conceal  what  she  felt  when  from  her 
husband's  looks  toward  Miss  Jewell,  with  an  occasional 
alteration  of  them  toward  her  own  pale  face,  she  was 
obliged  to  suspect  him  of  making  inwardly  a  compari- 
2 


18  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

son  between  herself  and  the  splendid  woman  so  full  of 
health,  beauty,  and  vivacity.  Yet  accustomed  to  society 
as  was  Miss  Jewell,  who  must  have  learned  to  observe 
some  of  the  things  that  do  not  always  come  up  to  the 
surface  in  such  a  company,  she  showed  once  that  she 
felt  it  to  be  worth  while  to  make  a  special  effort  to  re- 
assure this  young  wife  if  herself  was  felt  to  be  cause  of 
any  degree  of  anxiety  to  her. 

The  occasion  was  this  :  Charlotte  had  played  several 
waltzes.  As,  in  answer  to  universal  solicitation,  she 
began  with  another,  Miss  Jewell,  her  hands  upon  the 
piano  moving  their  fingers  in  harmony,  suddenly  ex- 
claimed : 

"  O  Charlotte,  that  is-  exquisite !  I  wish  I  could 
waltz !  "  Instantly  Guthrie,  who  was  standing  by,  ex- 
tending both  hands,  proposed  to  lead  her  forth.  Her 
impulse  was  to  accept,  but,  looking  first  at  Alice,  then  at 
Mr.  Wendell,  who  at  that  moment  was  moving  toward 
her,  smiling  slightly  and  shaking  his  head,  she  seized 
Anna,  and  with  her  made  a  few  rounds. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Jewell,"  said  Guthrie,  when  it  was  over, 
"  you  should  have  had  a  man  to  help  you  show  off  as  it 
deserved  that  perfection  of  movement." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  for  the  compliment,  Mr.  Guthrie. 
Yes,  one  needs  strong  arms  in  waltzing ;  so  I  played 
the  man  to  Anna.     She  waltzes  well,  doesn't  she  ? " 

"  Yes,  but  not—" 

At  that  moment  she  looked  at  Alice,  whose  eyes 
were  upon  Guthrie.  She  Went  to  her  and  addressed 
some  cordially  hospitable  words.  Alice  looked  np, 
gave  a  brief,  simple  answer,  as  if  in  parenthesis,  then 
turned  her  face  away.     Miss  Jewell  slightly  reddened, 


THE  WENDELLS  GIVE  A  TARTY.  10 

turned,  went  back  to  the  piano,  and  did  the  best  play- 
ing of  the  evening. 

"  How  did  you  like  that  last  piece,  Mr.  Guthrie  ? " 

"  Nothing  could  have  been  finer.  Indeed,  I  have 
never  been  so  entertained  as  to  night." 

"  Mrs.  Guthrie  does  not  seem  quite  well,"  she  said 
lowly,  as  her  fingers  ran  up  and  down  upon  the  keys. 

"  Oh,  she's  well  enough.  Mrs.  Guthrie,  you  may 
know — »  But  she  rose  instantly,  and  went  moving 
among  the  rest. 

Tolly  took  Charlotte  home. 

"  A  very  pleasant  party,"  he  said,  when  they  had 
passed  through  the  gate. 

"  Yes,  the  Wendells  are  nice  people,  and  know 
thoroughly  how  to  entertain,  even  without  the  help  of 
Miss  Jewell.  Wasn't  she  fine,  though?  Taking  her 
all  in  all,  she's  the  finest  woman  I  ever  knew." 

"  I've  never  seen  her  show  to  quite  such  advantage 
as  this  evening.  But  I  could  not  say  with  you  that  she's 
the  very  finest  woman  /have  known.  I  do  admire  her 
very  much,  however,  in  every  particular." 

"  She  likes  you,  Mr.  Tolly." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  that  from  such  authority  ! 
Yet  I  have  been  trusting  that  she  was  one  of  my  friends, 
feeling  that  she  could  not  but  know  what  high  esteem  I 
have  for  herself.  The  waltzing  of  hers  to  me  seemed 
perfect,  although  I've  had  little  acquaintance  with  that 
sport,  or  even  with  ordinary  dancing.  Miss  Wendell's 
part  was  done  well  also,  I  thought,  in  spite,  perhaps,  of 
what  I  suspected  her  consciousness  of  inferiority  to  her 
magnificent  cousin." 

"  Yes,  it  was  perfectly  done.    Anna  is  a  girl  of  much 


20  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

gracefulness  when  she  feels  entirely  at  ease ;  but  every 
woman  must  suffer  somewhat  in  comparison  with  that 
exquisite  creature.  It  was  amusing  to  me  to  see  how 
delighted  Cousin  Duncan  was.  He  whispered  to  me 
that  he  was  dying  to  waltz  with  her ;  but  I'm  rather 
glad  that  she  wouldn't  let  him — under  the  circumstances. 
Cousin  Duncan,  I  think,  for  a  married  man,  is  rather 
more  fond  of  young  women's  society  than  seems  quite 
proper.  I've  told  him  so,  and  so  has  father.  But  he 
says  that  he  doesn't  see  why  because  a  man  is  married 
he  mayn't  have  fun  like  others.  He  has  about  the  best 
wife  in  this  whole  world,  and  he  knows  it,  but  I  wish 
he'd  be  a  little  more  regardful  of  her.  He  is  as  good 
to  her  as  he  can  be  ;  but  he's  not  quite  as  considerate  as 
he  ought  to  be — at  least  in  some  companies." 

"  Mrs.  Guthrie  looked  to-night  as  if  she  were  not 
quite  well.  Indeed,  she  told  me  she  was  not ;  but  that 
she  had  come  because  she  felt  that  she  ought  to  do  what 
she  could  to  show  her  appreciation  of  the  "Wendells' 
civility." 

"  Yes  ;  still  she  would  not  have  come  but  for  the  in- 
sistence of  Cousin  Duncan.  She's  not  ill ;  only  a  little 
out  of  sorts,  and  will  soon  be  all  right  again.  I'm  not 
sure  but  that  he'd  have  gone  there  alone,  except  that 
lie  knew  that  such  a  thing  would  not  have  looked 
well." 

"To  me  that  is  strange.  It  seems  to  me  that  if  I 
were  a  married  man  I  should  feel  like  giving  up  society 
except  to  the  degree  that  my  wife  might  claim  my 
escort." 

"  That  would  be  gallant,  Mr.  Tolly,  even  knightly  !  " 

"No,  it  wouldn't  seem  any  thing  of  the  kind  to 


THE  WENDELLS  GIVE  A  PARTY.       21 

me.     It  would  be  only  that  I  regarded  her  society  suf- 
ficient." 

"  But  women,  married  and  single,  you  know,  must 
have,  or  they  feel  that  they  must  have,  other  society 
than  domestic  sometimes,  if  for  no  other  reason,  to  gos- 
sip and  listen  to  gossiping." 

"  For  other  reasons  quite  above  that.  "What  I  mean 
is  that  I  should  wish  for  my  wife  to  regulate  such  vis- 
itations by  her  own  feelings  and  her  sense  of  the  duties 
which  she  and  I  owed  to  society." 

"  But  suppose  you  should  find  that  she  carried  that 
liberty  to  excess  ? " 

"  I  could  not  suppose  such  a  case.  I  should  trust 
that  in  such  matters  her  judgment  was  better  than  mine, 
and  I  am  very  sure  that  I  should  feel  much  embarrassed 
in  any  company  of  gentlemen  or  ladies  to  which  my 
wife  would  decline  to  go,  or  would  go  reluctantly  and 
only  for  my  sake." 

"  Then,  if  you  had  been  in  Cousin  Duncan's  place, 
you  would  not  have  gone  to  the  Wendells'." 

"  I  certainly  would  not." 

"  Not  even  to  meet  Miss  Jewell  ? " 

"  Not  even  to  meet  anybody.  Though,  of  course," 
he  added,  as  if  he  supposed  that  he  ought,  "  I  do  not 
judge  Mr.  Guthrie,  who  doubtless  feels  that  he  entirely 
understands  his  own  case." 

"  You've  seen  Alice  at  her  home,  haven't  you,  Mr. 
Tolly?" 

"  No,  Miss  Charlotte." 

She  suspected  that  he  had  never  been  there,  and  it  oc- 
curred to  her  thus  to  intimate  her  disapproval  of  Dun- 
can's neglect  of  inviting  to  his  house  a  professional  brother. 


22  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  All !  Cousin  Duncan  lias  been  more  careless  than 
I  would  have  thought,  priding  himself  as  he  does  in 
knowing  all  about  society  manners  and  duties.  But  he 
seems  to  think  that  Alice  doesn't  care  about  young 
men's  society  other  than  his  own.  I  have  sometimes 
berated  him  for  never  introducing  a  gentleman  to  her. 
It's  ridiculous ;  he  ought  to  know  better,  and  he  does 
know  better.  Well,  if  you  ever  are  in  that  house,  you 
will  see,  if  there  is  such  a  person  in  the  world,  a  perfect 
lady.  As  a  wife,  as  a  mistress  over  servants,  as  an 
arranger  and  manager  of  house  matters,  and  as  a  host- 
ess, there's  never  a  place  for  an  objection  to  her." 

When  he  had  seen  her  home  and  bidden  good-night, 
he  turned,  and  on  his  way  to  the  tavern  where  he  boarded 
ruminated  on  the  incidents  of  the  evening.  Country- 
born  as  he  was,  loyal  to  his  origin  and  his  family,  he 
had  a  head  as  cool  as  his  spirit  was  aspiring.  Charlotte 
was  a  prize  above  the  reach  of  any  present  endeavors 
on  his  part.  He  knew  that  well  enough,  and,  indeed, 
he  regarded  it  as  most  probable  that  she  always  would 
be.  Yet  the  rise  and  growth  in  his  heart  of  a  strong 
affection  served  to  make  no  alteration  in  his  habits — 
not  even  in  his  bi-monthly  visits  to  his  native  place 
from  Saturday  night  until  Monday  morning.  In  town 
he  visited  in  moderation  at  houses  to  which  he  had  been 
invited  and  knew  himself  to  be  welcome.  Courteous 
to  everybody,  frank  in  speech  and  bearing,  considerate 
toward  women  of  every  degree  of  property  and  culture, 
yet,  when  waiting  upon  Charlotte  Macfarlane,  in  his 
manner  was  something  which  told  that  the  interest  felt 
for  her  was  different  from  that  indulged  for  any  other. 
Well  aware  of  the  feeling  of  Guthrie,  who  looked  upon 


WIDOW  GUTHRIE.  23 

him  at  first  as  an  audacious  country  upstart,  and  latterly 
as  a  formidable  professional  rival,  he  was  of  a  sort  that 
such  hostility  stiffens  rather  than  discourages.  After 
conliicts  at  the  bar,  in  which  successes  outnumbered 
defeats,  he  felt  himself  stimulated  to  yet  more  deter- 
mined purpose  in  the  silent  pursuit  of  one  dear  object 
by  thoughts  of  an  opponent  to  whom  he  had  proved  a 
full  match  elsewhere. 

The  courtship  of  a  man  in  such  circumstances  is 
necessarily  slow.  That  of  Thomas  Tolly  was  too  much 
so  for  the  movements  of  the  other  persons  in  this  tale, 
in  which  he  is  to  take  a  subordinate  and  not  sentimental 
part ;  and  so,  with  good  wishes  for  his  ultimate  success, 
I  must  leave  out  that  portion  of  his  career. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WIDOW    GUTHRIE. 

Another  talk  more  or  less  confidential  was  had  that 
same  night  and  at  the  same  hour. 

"  Alice,  I  think  you  might  have  exhibited  less  de- 
mureness  to-night,  and  I  don't  well  see  how  you  can 
easily  excuse  yourself  for — what  I  should  call  rudeness 
to  Miss  Jewell." 

"  I  was  not  rude  to  Miss  Jewell,  Duncan ;  at  least, 
I  did  not  mean  to  be.  Pier  compassion  of  me,  as  I 
regarded  her  occasional  gushing  cordiality,  was  not  as 
agreeable  as  the  chat  I  was  having  with  Mrs.  "Wendell 


24  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

at  the  time  she  came  to  me  last,  and  I  merely  wanted 
to  let  her  know  it,  and  that  I  was  satisfied  with  the  hos- 
pitality I  received  from  the  family  without  need  of  her 
special  assurances." 

"I  can't  divine  what  you  mean  by  the  use  of  the 
word  compassion" 

"  She  looked  as  if  she  was  rather  sorry  for  me,  I 
thought." 

"  I'd  like  to  know  for  what.  For  God  Almighty's 
sake,  do  tell  me." 

"  You  need  not  have  used  such  an  adjuration  about 
so  small  a  matter  as  Miss  Jewell's  pity  for  me.  I  sup- 
pose she  guessed  that  I  was  feeling  bad,  and  thought 
she  might  extend  at  least  temporary  relief,  and  decided 
to  do  so." 

"  Oh,  Alice,  Alice  !  What  is  the  use  of  tormenting 
yourself  and  me  also  by  indulging  in  suspicions  that  are 
wholly  without  foundation  ?  You  hurt  the  woman 
keenly  by  your  conduct." 

"  Yet  she  went  back  to  the  piano,  and,  smiling  gra- 
ciously upon  you  the  while,  played  in  a  way  the  most 
elaborate  of  the  evening." 

"Yes.  And  it  was  done  in  answer  to  your  treat- 
ment of  her." 

"  So,  I  regarded  it,  and — " 

It  was  on  her  tongue  to  say  that  it  was  not  quite 
loyal  of  him  to  be  so  complacent  at  an  understood  in- 
stance of  resentment  toward  his  wife.  But  she  was 
weary,  and  so  held  her  peace. s 

"  Oh,  well,  well,"  he  said  with  sudden  affectionate- 
ness,  "  I  was  wrong  to  urge  you  to  go  there  against  your 
feelings,  and  I  ought  not  to  have  said  what  I  did  just 


WIDOW  GUTHRIE.  25 

now.  You  know,  Alice,  that  I  not  only  love  you  with 
all  my  heart,  but  admire  you  above  all  women." 

And  in  the  shadow  of  the  cedars  lining  the  avenue 
to  his  house,  putting  his  hand  under  her  chin,  he  lifted 
her  face  and  kissed  her. 

It  all  seemed  so  natural  that  as  she  wept  thankful 
and  regretful  tears,  encircling  her  with  his  arm,  he  bore 
her  within. 

The  next  morning  at  the  breakfast-table,  Mr.  Mac- 
farlane  asked  his  daughter : 

"  How  did  you  get  home  last  night,  Charlotte  ?  Al- 
fred Jamison  bring  you  ? " 

"  No,  father,  Mr.  Tolly." 

"  Aye  ?   Young  Tolly  visits  a  good  deal,  doesn't  he  ? " 

"  About  the  same  as  other  young  men,  I  think." 

"  How  does  lie  hold  with  the  rest,  including  Dun- 
can ?  for  they  say  he's  as  fond  of  going  about  as  any 
of  the  unmarried  ones,  though  Alice,  sensible  woman, 
isn't  much  on  that  line.     How  does  Tolly  get  along  ? " 

"  Very  well,  father,  as  far  as  I  know.  He  hasn't 
Cousin  Duncan's  polish,  but  he  doesn't  seem  to  care 
much  about  acquiring  it,  and  therefore  appears  to  be  at 
sufficient  ease.  He  is  certainly  very  courteous,  and  to 
all  women  alike." 

"  That  shows  sense,  and  principle  too.  They  are  an 
independent  sort  of  people,  the  Tollys,  and  entirely  re- 
spectable ;  plain  about  like  their  neighbors,  the  Staple- 
tons,  whose  coming  into  the  family  your  Aunt  Hester 
thinks  such  a  disgrace  that  she  won't  do  what  she  ought 
for  Caroline.  Tolly  is  rising  at  the  bar  very  fast,  and 
in  time,  if  he  lives  and  persists  on  the  line  he's  been 
pursuing,  is  bound  to  become  a  leading  lawyer.     Does 


26  WIDOW  GUTHRIE.   . 

the  fellow  seem  to  have  a  fancy  for  any  young  woman 
in  particular  % " 

"How  should  I  know,  father?"  she  answered, 
laughing.  "  I  have  never  heard  of  any  pronounced 
movement  that  he  has  made  in  that  direction." 

"  That  looks  sensible,  too  ;  the  longer  a  young  man 
in  his  circumstances  waits — that  is,  in  reason — the  better 
are  his  chances  to  marry  to  advantage.  If  he  is  not 
in  too  great  a  hurry,  he'll  get  a  wife  if  he  wants  one 
such  as  I  suspect  he  couldn't  get  just  now.  If  Miss 
Jewell  had  money,  that  might  suit,  provided  he  could 
get  her,  as  I  suppose  he  could.  She  and  the  Wendells 
came  of  good  old  New  England  stock.  We  made  that 
a  condition  in  our  inquiry  for  a  teacher.  What  a  mag- 
nificent young  woman  she  is!  If  she  had  been  here 
when  I  was  a  young  man,  and  your  mother  hadn't  been 
about,  there's  no  telling  what  might  have  happened." 

He  smiled  as  if  thinking  what  a  destiny  had  been 
missed  by  Miss  Jewell's  coming  on  so  late. 

"  If  you  had  seen  her  waltz  last  night,  father,  you 
would  have  thought  her  magnificent,  indeed." 

"Waltz  ?  I  didn't  know  that  Mr.  Wendell  allowed 
waltzing  in  his  house." 

"  It  wasn't  on  a  scale  that  would  hurt,  husband," 
said  Mrs.  Macfarlane.  "  Charlotte  tells  me  that  only 
Miss  Jewell  and  Anna  Wendell  engaged  in  it.  Duncan 
wanted  to,  but  Mr.  Wendell  said  no." 

"  Duncan !  Yes,  I'll  be  bound  for  Duncan  getting 
into  such  as  that  when  he  can.  Mr.  Wendell  was  right. 
Does  Tolly  ever  allude  to  John  Stapleton,  Charlotte  ? " 

"  Often,  very  often  ;  he  says  that  Cousin  John  is  the 
best  man  he  is  acquainted  with." 


•  WIDOW  GUTHRIE.  27 

"Yes?     Everybody  thinks   well  of   Mr.  Stapleton 

except   Hester — and    Duncan,    of    course.      Ah,    me  ! 
trouble  is  to  come  of  it,  some  time,  I  fear." 

Indeed,  here  was  a  case  which  had  given  to  the 
Macfarlanes  much  anxiety.  Mrs.  Guthrie,  now  in  the 
sixties,  in  spite  of  her  snow-white  hair  and  furrowed 
face,  was  handsome.  The  original  ruddiness  of  her  com- 
plexion had  been  saved  by  energetic  work  and  generous 
living.  Married  to  a  man  much  older  than  herself, 
after  she  had  borne  to  him  two  clrildren,  he  went  into  a 
decline.  It  was  not  a  difficult  matter  for  such  a  woman 
to  obtain  ascendency  over  a  husband  whose  understand- 
ing dwindled  faster  than  his  physical  being.  Availing 
herself  of  this  opportunity,  assured  that  she  was  doing 
what  was  her  full  right  to  do,  she  induced  him  to  exe- 
cute a  last  will  and  testament  in  which  she  was  nomi- 
nated executrix  and  sole  legatee.  She  had  managed  the 
estate  well.  The  first  child,  Caroline,  on  coming  of  age, 
against  her  mother's  most  hostile  opposition,  married 
John  Stapleton.  A  happy  marriage  it  had  proved, 
although  the  husband  had  added  little  to  his  own 
small  patrimony  and  the  dowry  of  half  a  dozen  ne- 
groes given  reluctantly  and  against  her  previous  threat- 
enings  by  Mrs.  Guthrie.  A  sturdy,  handsome,  rather 
gigantic  countryman,  he  attended  with  reasonable  dili- 
gence to  the  business  of  his  little  plantation,  had  his 
hounds  and  his  pointer,  lived  well,  but  kept  himself 
out  of  debt.  He  worshiped  his  wife,  and,  whenever 
he  met  with  her  mother,  treated  her  courteously  as 
other  elderly  ladies.  This  was  not  often.  He  never 
went  to  her  house,  except  to  carry  thither  or  bring 
away  his  wife,  or,  at  the  latter's  request,  to  inquire, 


28  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

when  in  town,  about  her  health.  Once  or  twice  a 
year  Mrs.  Guthrie  went  down  in  her  carriage  to  see 
her  daughter,  declaring  every  time  that  it  was  as  much 
as  her  own  life  was  worth,  to  say  nothing  of  the  car- 
riage, to  travel  over  that  awful  road.  Her  son-in-law 
listened  to  such  complainings  with  polite  sympathy 
hut  never  had  a  word  to  say  in  agreement  with  her  de- 
nunciation of  the  county  authorities,  two  of  whom 
were  his  neighbors,  and  the  other  three  well-known 
good  men.  If  she  tarried  the  night  he  was  not  made 
extremely  unhappy  by  her  saying  she  had  had  hardly 
a  wink  of  sleep,  and  he  expressed  neither  surprise  nor 
gratification  at  her  relish  of  the  good  breakfast  which 
his  wife  had  provided.  When  she  was  leaving  he  bade 
good-by  as  he  would  have  done  with  any  respectable 
parting  guest,  and  perhaps  for  the  rest  of  that  day  was 
more  demonstrative  than  usual  in  words  and  caresses 
bestowed  upon  his  wife.  The  latter,  a  tall  blonde  of 
much  beauty,  loved  him  with  all  her  heart,  and  believed 
in  him  as  the  very  best  of  mankind. 

The  difference  in  the  manner  of  living  of  her  chil- 
dren led  Mrs.  Guthrie  to  prefer  that  at  least  her  kins- 
folk and  her  few  familiar  acquaintances  should  under- 
stand her  feelings  and  the  motives  for  her  treatment. 

"I  like  the  creature  well  enough,  and  I'd  try  to 
like  him  better  if  he  had  some  manners,  and  if  he'd  show 
some  sort  of  respect  for  me,  knowing  that  even  if  I  did 
think  Caroline  threw  herself  away  when  she  married  him, 
still,  I'm  her  mother  and  I'm  entitled  to  be  treated  de- 
cently, especially  as  I've  got  the  property  all  in  my  hands. 
But  John  Stapleton  is  one  of  that  kind  that  he  don't 
appear  to  have  any  more  respect  for  property  than  he 


WIDOW  GUTHRIE.  29 

has  for  me ;  and  sometimes  I'm  not  quite  certain  in  my 
mind  if  he's  got  right  good  sense.  Not  that  he's  dis- 
respectful;  because,  even  if  Duncan  was  out  of  the 
case,  he  ought  to  know,  I  suppose,  that  I'm  not  the 
woman  to  stand  such  as  that  from  him  nor  anybody  like 
him  ;  but  it's  his  unconcern  that  after  I've  laid  down  my 
work  and  my  business,  and  taken  the  trouble  to  make 
Moses  stop  his  work  in  the  garden  and  about  the  lot, 
and  hitch  the  horses  to  the  carriage,  and  run  the  risk  of 
my  life  over  those  roads  that  are  a  shame  to  the  whole 
county,  he  meets  me  and  he  treats  me  as  if  I  was  no- 
body but  any  other  common  country-woman  ;  and  he 
never  says  here  nor  there  about  me  nor  about  my 
peace  of  mind  except  what  everybody  is  bound  to  say 
the  whole  time  I'm  there,  and  not  even  when  I  come 
away.  And  every  time  I  go  there  I  wonder  what  it  is  in 
him  that  makes  Caroline  so  wrapped  up  in  him.  It 
seems  to  me  that  she  gets  worse  instead  of  better,  and 
she  won't  even  listen  to  my  making  over  to  her  another 
family  of  negroes  which  Mr.  Macfarlane  kept  on  hinting 
I  ought  to  do.  She  says  she  wants  no  property  to 
come  there  that  don't  belong  to  John  Stapleton.  I'm 
not  denying  but  what  he's  a  great,  tall,  healthy,  good- 
natured,  and  reasonably  good-looking  sort  of  a  fellow ; 
but  when  I  was  a  girl  such  as  that  never  moved  me, 
and  I  kept  myself  from  marrying  any  of  them  until 
one  came  that  had  something  to  back  it,  and  was  of 
good  old  Virginia  stock  in  the  bargain.  Mr.  Guthrie  was 
a  man  that  had  the  sense  and  the  judgment  to  see  he  had 
a  wife  that  looked  into  things  before  she  plunged  head- 
foremost into  them,  and  that  made  him  leave  the  will 
he  did.     Never  mind  ;  they'll  both  find  out  who  they're 


30  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

fooling  with,  and  that  to  their  sorrow.  Now,  there's 
Duncan.  I  don't  say  Duncan  Guthrie  is  any  saint,  nor 
he  doesn't  set  up  for  one.  But  he  has  never  forgot 
who  he  came  from.  Caroline  never — not  from  the 
time  she  was  a  child — she  never  appeared  to  feel  that 
her  business  was  to  help  keep  up  the  family  name. 
Now,  Alice  may  think  that  she  has  some  fault  to  find 
with  Duncan  as  a  husband  ;  but  my  experience  of  men 
is  that  the  most  of  them  are  going  to  do  pretty  much  as 
they  please  about  some  things,  and  if  I  was  in  Alice's 
place,  I  shouldn't  be  bothering  myself  too  much  about 
what  I  couldn't  help.  Duncan  is  not  a  quarrelsome 
person,  and,  with  me  to  help  him,  is  a  splendid  pro- 
vider. His  wife  had  family,  and  she  had  projierty ; 
and  still  that  boy  treats  me  with  the  very  same  respect 
he  always  did,  notwithstanding  Alice — this  is  in  confi- 
dence just  between  us — she  did  it  at  first ;  but  she 
don't  now ;  she  tried  to  make  me  divide  out  with  Caro- 
line as  far  as  I  had  with  Duncan.  For  Alice  is  a 
woman  that,  though  an  excellent  good  woman  to  my 
belief,  yet  she's  not  had  experience,  living  all  of  her  life 
away  up  there  on  the  other  side  of  Broad  River,  where 
society  is  entirely  too  much  mixed  up  to  suit  my  no- 
tions. But  I  nipped  that  in  the  bud,  and  I  gave  her  to 
understand  that  I'd  rather  not  hear  her  express  any 
opinion  about  the  way  I  was  managing  my  own  busi- 
ness. I  tell  Alice  she  ought  to  be  satisfied  with  how 
much  better  she  did  marrying  than  Caroline,  although 
Caroline  thinks  no  more  of  me  than  to  tell  me  to  my 
very  face  that  she  believes  she  has  the  very  best  hus- 
band in  this  world,  sickening  as  she  knows  it  is  to  me 
to  hear  such  foolishness.     But,  after  all,  I'm  glad  Alice 


WIDOW  GUTHRIE.  31 

isn't  ashamed  of  them  and  likes  them  as  well  as  she 
does,  because  it  saves  talk  and  looks  better  in  a  com- 
munity." 

Alice,  at  her  coming  into  the  family,  had  conceived 
for  her  sister-in-law  a  warm  affection,  and,  in  her  sim- 
pleness  of  heart,  expressed  her  surprise  at  the  dissatis- 
faction with  John  Stapleton,  who,  as  she  said  with  na- 
tive frankness,  was  a  man  much  to  be  admired.  Feeling 
it  her  duty  to  try  to  effect  a  reconciliation,  knowing 
little  of  the  inner  natures  of  those  with  whom  she  was 
to  deal,  she  went  to  her  task  with  the  directness  in 
which  she  had  been  reared.  Pained  and  ashamed  to 
find  her  efforts  wholly  unavailing  with  both  her  mother- 
in-law  and  her  husband,  she  ceased  to  interfere.  It  was 
a  great  disappointment,  the  first  she  had  ever  had,  and 
it  served  to  bring  upon  her  heart  a  dread  that  was  to 
grow  darker.  No  quarrel  had  ever  been  between  Dun- 
can and  his  sister  or  her  husband.  He  had  never  been 
at  their  house,  and  although  Alice  and  Caroline  visited 
occasionally,  John  Stapleton  had  never  been  at  Guth- 
rie's except  on  the  occasion  when  with  his  wife  he  had 
called  upon  the  bride.  "Whenever  the  men  happened 
to  meet,  they  spoke  as  any  other  two  acquaintances  be- 
tween whom  was  no  familiarity.  The  decisive  answer 
given  by  her  husband  to  Alice's  remonstrances  regard- 
ing the  state  of  the  family  relations  was  in  these  words : 

"  Alice,  my  advice  to  you  is  to  let  that  business 
alone.  You  don't  know  mother.  I  do.  If  she  were 
to  try  not  to  make  a  difference  between  me  and  Caro- 
line, she  couldn't.  She  always  would  have  favorites. 
In  this  case  it  is  myself,  and  it  isn't  every  man's  wife 
that  would  object  to  such  as  that.     If  it  wasn't  I,  it 


32  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

would  be  Caroline.  That's  just  rny  luck.  Mother,  as 
I  think  you  must  have  seen,  is  not  pleased  with  your 
interference,  and  if  it  does  anything,  it  will  do  no  good, 
to  Caroline  certainly.  I've  tried,  and  so  has  Uncle 
Dennis,  to  get  her  to  let  them  have  at  least  another 
family  of  negroes  and  a  little  money  to  add  to  their 
plantation  ;  but  it  served  only  to  anger  her,  and  she  said 
at  last  that  I  stood  in  my  own  light  by  asking  such  a 
thing  of  her.  Still,  she  did  offer  to  make  over  to  Caro- 
line some  negroes  ;  but  she  would  not  accept  them  on 
those  terms.    Stapleton,  no  doubt,  had  put  her  up  to  it."' 

"  He  is  a  noble  gentleman,  that's  what  Mr.  Staple- 
ton  is  ;  and  his  wife,  who  is  as  fine  a  woman  as  I  ever 
saw,  knows  it !  " 

"  High  !  "  said  he,  smiling  with  good-humored  irony, 
"  that  tall  chevalier  seems  to  have  struck  your  fancy, 
my  dear,  as  well  as  Caroline's." 

"  Duncan,"  she  answered,  "  fancy  has  nothing  to  do 
with  it.  If  father  had  proposed  to  make  over  to  my 
separate  use  the  property  he  gave  you  at  our  marriage 
I  shouldn't  have  been  willing  to  accept  it.  Would  you 
have  wished  me  to  ?  " 

"  No  ;  that  I  wouldn't.  The  cases  are  very  differ- 
ent," 

Stung  with  shame  for  his  selfishness,  she  became 
silent,  and  for  a  long  time  did  not  allude  to  the  subject 
again. 

In  those  times,  curious  as  it  may  seem  to  us,  a  man 
at  marriage  became  by  law  entitled  to  all  the  prop- 
erty then  held  by  his  wife  or  afterward  devolved  upon 
her  by  purchase  or  inheritance,  unless  by  antenuptial 
settlement  or  other  paper  by  which  it  was  acrpiired  it 


WIDOW  GUTHRIE.  33 

was  made  free  from  marital  control.  Even  as  to  prop- 
erty not  reduced  into  possession  during  the  wife's  life- 
time, the  husband,  by  becoming  her  administrator,  was 
exempted  from  making  to  the  Ordinary  returns  of  his 
management,  and  thus  made  sole  owner  of  that  also. 
As  for  such  precontracts,  they  were  seldom  made.  The 
public  mind,  almost  universally,  was  opposed  to  them, 
as  degrading  to  the  husband's  manhood  and  prolific  of 
domestic  unhappiness.  Marriage  was  regarded  as  merg- 
ing of  a  woman's  being  in  that  of  her  husband.  There 
are  persons  yet  living  who  remember  the  first  libel  for 
divorce  in  that  whole  region,  and  the  surprise  and  awe 
when  its  news  was  spread  abroad.  Women  grew  up  to 
have  the  same  views  as  men  upon  this  subject,  and  in 
the  few  cases  where  such  settlements  were  suggested  by 
parents,  their  daughters  cordially  ratified  refusals  by 
their  husbands  to  accept  property  upon  such  terms.  In 
this  case  the  community,  without  exception,  justified 
Caroline  Stapleton,  who  did  not  even  wait  to  consult 
the  feelings  and  wishes  of  her  husband. 

Affection  and  confidence  between  these  two  young 
women  grew  in  tenderness  as  they  came  to  know  each 
other  better.  Along  with  compassion  in  the  one  who 
seemed  far  more  fortunate,  there  was  in  her  heart  grat- 
ulation  for  the  other  whose  husband  had  shown  himself 
full  worthy  of  all  the  affection  and  trust  and  reliance 
that  were  bestowed  upon  him.  Mr.  Indwell  had  given 
Duncan  a  handsome  portion  of  his  large  estate.  The 
young  wife,  like  Portia,  wished  for  his  sake  that  she  had 
been  ten  thousand  times  more  rich,  and  she  joyed  in  the 
feeling  that  herself  and  what  was  hers  to  him  and  his 
had  been  converted.  He  could  have  had  much  happiness 
3 


34:  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

with  such  a  wife  if  he  had  been  one  to  appreciate  the 
gifts  for  which  she  was  to  be  loved  more  than  for  the 
beauty  and  wealth  which  she  had  brought.  Her  mother 
had  warned  her  against  being  exacting  of  corresponding 
returns  for  what  she  was  giving  so  freely,  and  she  had 
tried  to  school  herself  to  make  allowance  for  faults 
which,  to  a  degree  apparent  to  herself,  more  so  to  her 
parents,  before  the  marriage,  were  found  to  be  more 
pronounced  and  reckless  than  she  could  have  been 
made  to  believe.  Rumors  of  some  of  his  habits  had 
reached  her  father,  and  although  indefinite  had  dis- 
turbed him,  yet  less  than  those  of  the  treatment  of 
Mrs.  Stapleton  by  his  mother,  a  thing  which  Mr.  Lud- 
well  believed  that  he  ought  to  have  prevented.  Duncan, 
during  his  courtship,  had  alluded  to  this,  but,  seeing  his 
mistake,  afterward  spoke  of  his  sister  in  very  affection- 
ate terms,  and  said  that  his  mother  was  in  some  respects 
a  rather  peculiar  woman,  and  that  it  was  his  own  inten- 
tion to  see  that  Caroline  should  get  a  just  portion  of 
the  estate  left  by  their  father.  To  Alice  it  was  some 
consolation,  poor  of  its  kind,  but  better  than  none,  to 
blame  Mrs.  Guthrie  for  never  having  curbed  but,  instead, 
striven  to  intensify  a  selfishness  and  exacerbate  a  temper 
inherited  from  herself.  Yet  she  behaved  toward  her 
with  as  much  consideration  as  was  consistent  with  the 
absence  of  filial  affection  that  was  impossible.  A  loyal 
wife,  made  more  loyal,  if  possible,  by  fears  of  being 
driven  to  prize  her  husband  lower  than  she  had  counted 
upon,  she  strove  to  persuade  herself  that  it  was  her  duty 
to  be  happier  than  she  felt  herself  to  be.  The  return 
of  physical  health  made  her  stronger  in  heart,  and  peo- 
ple were  gratified  when  she  seemed  to  take  on  some 


WIDOW  GUTHRIE.  35 

gayety  which  contrasted  prettily  with  her  native  seri- 
ousness. Always  having  loved  Charlotte  Macfarlane, 
she  grew  to  have  much  affection  for  her  parents,  espe- 
cially her  mother,  upon  whom,  as  it  must  go  somewhere, 
she  bestowed  the  feeling  that  she  acknowledged  in  her 
heart  to  be  due  but  could  not  be  paid  to  her  mother-in- 
law.  Seeing  that  her  husband  cared  not  that  she 
should  have  much  of  the  society  of  young  men,  married 
or  unmarried,  she  treated  these  with  simple  civility,  and 
let  her  social  cordiality  go  to  ladies  and  elderly  gen- 
tlemen. Lately,  and  notably  since  the  evening  at  the 
"Wendells',  Guthrie  had  been  uncommonly  affectionate, 
and  she  was  beginning  to  hope  that  after  all  she  might 
come  to  be  as  happy  a  wife  as  most  married  women 
with  whom  she  had  acquaintance.  Perhaps  the  standard 
she  had  lifted  was  too  lofty.  Her  husband  felt  that  he 
knew  well  enough  how  to  conciliate  when  conciliation  was 
important  for  the  compassing  of  a  desired  end.  Con- 
scious of  this  gift,  he  seemed  not  to  be  afraid  of  losing  it, 
but  it  is  one  whose  security  against  abuse  requires  cau- 
tiousness that  he  had  not  well  learned.  Indeed,  he  never 
had  opportunities  to  learn  it.  Nurtured  from  his  very 
infancy  in  exorbitant  selfishness  which  he  believed 
himself  entitled  to  indulge  notwithstanding  every  risk, 
along  with  the  blame  for  much  of  his  deportment  there 
was  in  thoughtful  minds  some  compassion.  Not  irasci- 
ble like  his  mother,  instead,  affable  in  his  address  and 
liberal  with  his  money,  he  could  never  attain  popularity, 
which  he  anxiously  desired,  because  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  conceal,  or  even  try  to  conceal  his  sense  of 
superiority  over  a  large  majority  of  people  which  had 
been  imparted  by  his  birth,  education,  and   fortune. 


36  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

The  path  in  which  he  had  been  trained  to  walk  must 
lead  to  misfortune,  and  good  people  pitied  that  he  had 
never  seen  the  need  of  divergence. 


CHAPTEE  Y. 

PETEKSON   BRADDY. 

The  tavern  in  Clarke,  kept  by  Lewis  Junkin,  was 
better  than  it  looked.  A  lumbering  building,  begun  in 
the  infancy  of  the  village  with  a  two-story  house  whose 
piazza  opened  upon  a  corner  of  the  public  square,  fac- 
ing the  street  that  led  southward,  it  had  grown  irregu- 
larly back  and  sideways,  one  addition  opening  with  its 
plain  but  threatening  piazza  upon  the  back  yard  and 
looking  into  a  garden  in  which  Mrs.  Junkin  raised 
vegetables  more  than  enough.  It  kept  an  inexpensive 
but  uncommonly  nice  table.  Tolly  was  one  of  the  regu- 
lar boarders.  Almost  every  day  one  or  more  men  from 
the  country,  and  even  in  the  village,  came  there  to  din- 
ner. Guthrie  did  this  sometimes  rather  than  walk  to 
his  residence,  half  a  mile  distant.  After  dinner  the 
guests  usually  sat  for  an  hour  in  a  large  chamber,  called 
in  that  time  the  bar-room,  and  chatted  before  going 
back  to  their  business.  Guthrie  was  there  on  the  day 
after  the  party  at  the  Wendells'.  The  subject  of  inter- 
est, both  at  the  table  and  in  the  bar-room,  was  a  duel 
that  had  taken  place  a  few  days  before  between  two 
South  Carolinians,  news  of  which  had  just  come.     The 


PETERSON  BRADDY.  37 

occasion  was  an  alleged  wrong  done  to  a  man's  sister ; 
the  result  was  the  escape  of  the  injurer  and  the  danger- 
ous wounding  of  the  other.  Guthrie  was  quite  pro- 
nounced in  his  opinions.  After  dinner,  the  rest,  except 
Tolly  and  the  landlord,  having  had  as  much  discussion 
as  they  cared  for,  went  away,  leaving  these  in  the  bar 
room. 

"  Yes,  Tolly,"  said  Guthrie,  after  lighting  a  cigar, 
"  I  say,  good  for  Gregory  S  General  Frierson  could 
not  consent  to  a  connection  so  far  below  the  standing 
of  his  family,  and  the  girl  might  have  known  that  he 
wasn't  going  to  marry  her." 

"  But  they  say  that  he  was  actually  engaged  to  her." 

"  So  they  say,  I  know.  But  must  a  man  who  is  a 
gentleman  born,  whose  ancestors  before  him  were  gen- 
tlemen, lose  his  life  for  flirting  with  a  pretty  girl  who 
enjoyed  the  fun  as  much  as  he  did,  and  then  fire  up  be- 
cause she  was  disappointed  of  making  it  a  lifetime 
piece  of  business  ? " 

"Well,  Mr.  Guthrie,"  said  Junkin,  "I  shouldn't 
want  no  man,  no  matter  who  he  was,  nor  what  sort  of 
folks  he  come  from,  to  be  projeckin  in  that  kind  o'  style 
with  a  girl  that  was  anything  to  me." 

"  O  Junkin,"  he  answered,  as  if  kindly  to  assure 
him  of  his  entire  security  from  such  an  injury,  "  I've 
no  idea  that  you'll  ever  be  bothered  in  that  way." 

The  only  Miss  Junkin,  though  an  excellent  daugh- 
ter and  help  to  her  mother,  was  rather  lank  and  plain 
faced  to  be  in  great  danger  from  such  a  man  as  General 
Frierson. 

"  I  should  much  ruther  hope  not,  Mr.  Guthrie." 

"  But,  Junkin,  suppose  your  fatherly  feelings  should 


38  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

be   wrought  up   in   that  way;   what  would   you   do? 
"Would  you  challenge  the  fellow  ?  " 

"  I  couldn't  say  what  I'd  do,  Mr.  Guthrie.  But  I'd 
do  somethin'  that  would  be  a  caution,  without  he  killed 
me  before  I  done  it." 

"  Ah !  there,  you  see,  is  the  difficulty,  Junkin."  And 
he  seemed  quite  amused  at  the  possible  category  into 
which  Junkin  would  be  thrown  by  a  temporary  infatu- 
ation for  his  daughter  on  the  part  of  some  young  man 
of  high  family. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  humble  reply,  "  but,  Mr.  Guthrie,  a 
man,  no  matter  how  poor  he  is  nor  how  little  some 
people  may  think  of  his  people,  if  he's  a  man  at  all, 
he's  bound  to  take  the  resk  of  his  family  sometimes. 
And  then,  you  know,  Mr.  Tolly,  that  if  a  man  ain't 
what  the  other  think  is  his  equil  he  won't  fight  a  juel 
with  him,  even  if  he  was  to  channelge  him  ;  so  they 
ain't  nothing  to  do,  seem  to  me,  but  to  pick  up  sonic- 
thin',  and  haul  off  and  knock  his  brains  out." 

The  words  stung  Guthrie  somewhat,  but,  as  they 
were  addressed  to  Tolly,  he  said  nothing  in  reply. 

"  I  agree  with  you,  Mr.  Junkin,"  said  Tolly,  "  that 
a  man  in  such  a  case  would  be  apt  to  feel  as  if  he  must 
do  something,  no  matter  how  far  inferior  in  some  re- 
spects he  might  be  regarded  by  the  assailant  of  the 
peace  and  honor  of  his  family." 

"  Among  gentlemen,  equal  or  approximating  equal- 
ity, or  for  the  nonce  admitted  to  be  equal,  you  know, 
Tolly,"  said  Guthrie,  "  the  code  duello  is  regarded  suffi- 
cient for  providing  for  the  redress  of  grievances,  real 
or  imaginary.  As  for  unequals,  they  have  their  resort 
to  the  courts  for  pecuniary  damages." 


PETERSON  BRADDY.  39 

At  this  moment  Junkin  was  called  away. 

"  Aye ;  but,  Mr.  Guthrie,  there  are  few  so  poor  and 
so  humble  who  would  not  feel  that  the  acceptance  of 
money  for  an  injury  done  to  one's  honor  would  add 
to  the  first  disgrace  rather  than  condone  it.  Such 
cases,  fortunately  rare  in  our  society,  must  be  settled 
each  according  to  its  circumstances.  They  would  be 
more  rare  if  the  public  laws  and  society  would  make 
punishment,  one  felony  and  the  other  social  ostracism." 

"  Impracticable,  both,  Tolly.  The  mistake  with  the 
friends  of  such  a  girl  is  in  making  too  much  ado." 

"  Better  let  her  suffer  in  silence,  eh  % " 

"  Well,  yes,  unless  she  can  be  content  with  redresses 
that  are  provided.  The  best  way  to  simplify  such  mat- 
ters is  for  the  different  ranks  of  society  to  keep  apart 
from  anything  like  serious  connection,  and  let  it  be  un- 
derstood generally  that  mere  gallantries  must  take  care 
of  themselves.  Then,  you  know,  Tolly — ah  !  good  day, 
Peter." 

The  person  who  had  just  entered  the  room,  rather 
diminutive  in  stature,  black  eyed  and  black  haired,  hi? 
high  hat  worn  jauntily  on  a  side  of  his  head,  neatly 
dressed  in  home-made  clothes,  moved  and  looked  as  if 
he  felt  entirely  competent  to  take  care  of  himself  on 
any  sort  of  occasion. 

"  Do,  sir,"  he  answered  stiffly  to  Guthrie's  saluta- 
tion. Passing  on  to  Tolly  and  extending  his  small 
hand,  he  said  : 

"Howdye,  Tom.  What's  all  the  good  news  with 
you  1 " 

"Well,  Tolly,"  said  Guthrie.  "I've  stayed  here 
over  my  time,  and  forgot  an  appointment  with  a  cli- 


40  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

ent."  Saying  which,  lie  went  out.  The  new-comer 
looked  at  him  as  he  was  departing,  and  said  : 

"  That  great  man  is  so  condescendin'  that  he  can  fall 
in  here  sometimes  and  chat  with  common  folks  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  Peter,  Guthrie  stojjs  in  right  often,  and 
we  have  a  little  chat  while  smoking  our  cigars.  How 
are  you  all  ? " 

"  Ma's  not  quite  as  well  as  I'd  like  for  her  to  be. 
Sister  Patsy  is  all  right.  So  I  believe  they  are  over  at 
Emily's.  As  for  me,  I'm  straight  as  a  shingle,  like  I 
always  am,  thank  God.  You  look  well,  Tom.  I  ex- 
pect I  know  more  about  your  folks  than  you  do.  I 
was  down  to  Jack  Stapleton's  yisterday.  He  said 
everybody  over  at  your  pa's  was  alive  and  kickin'." 

"  How  is  Jack  ?  and  how  are  Mrs.  Stapleton  and 
Alan?" 

"  Missis  Stapleton  is  simple  splendid,  splendidest 
woman  in  the  State.  Alan  grows  like  a  pig,  and 
Jack's  fine,  a  heap  finer  than  any  such  triflin'  fellow 
had  ought  to  be.  I  go  down  occasional  and  have  a  fox 
hunt  with  him,  and  give  him  a  little  cussin'  out  for  his 
no-accountness.  I  love  Mm  so  much  I  can't  cuss  him 
hard  enough  to  do  any  good.  But  yit  I  ain't  without 
hopes,  as  the  preachers  says." 

"  What  are  you  cursing  Jack  about  ? " 

"  Oh,  you  know,  Tom  Tolly.  It's  for  lettin'  his- 
self  and  his  wife  be  run  over  by  Dunk  Guthrie  and  his 
old  mother,  and  be  kept  out  of  prop'ty  that  they're  as 
much  entitled  to  as  you  are-  to  that  coat  you  got  on 
your  back — and  more  too  if  you  hain't  paid  for  it,  which 
I  doubt,  livin'  in  town,  frolickin'  around  at  parties,  and 
dressin'  every  day  same  as  Sunday.     Take  a  pile  o'  law 


PETERSON  BRADDY.  41 

practice  to  keep  up  with  such  as  that.  I  been  doin' 
my  best  to  git  you  a  case,  and  I  Avill  some  day  if 
Jack'll  ever  live  to  be  any  account." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  solicitude,  Peter,"  Tolly 
said  good-humoredly,  "  but "  he  added  with  some  seri- 
ousness, "  I'd  rather  you  would  not  suggest  my  name 
as  a  lawyer  to  Jack.  If  he  should  ever  conclude  that 
any  of  his  rights  are  withheld,  and  then  should  decide 
to  try  to  obtain  them  by  resort  to  legal  proceedings,  I 
would  not  like  fur  any  friend  of  mine,  especially  one  as 
near  to  him  and  me  as  you  are,  to  even  suggest  my 
name  to  him  as  counsel." 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  goin'  to  hurt  you  with  Jack,  Tom 
Tolly.  I  couldn't,  if  I  was  to  try.  He  knows  you  too 
well  for  that.  I've  only  tried  to  git  him  for  the  sake 
of  his  wife  and  child,  and  another  he's  goin'  to  have 
soon,  and  the  Lord  knows  how  many  more,  to  wake  up 
and  git  some  lawyer — makes  no  odds  who,  if  he's  got  the 
sense — and  go  to  court  and  knock  the  old  man  Guthrie's 
will  sky  high,  which  it  ought  to  have  been  done  long 
ago.  Anybody  else  but  Jack  would  have  done  it,  be- 
cause everybody  that  knowed  Alan  Guthrie  knowed 
that  his  daughter  Calline  was  his  favorite  child  if  he 
had  any  favorite,  and  he  knowed  his  wife  was  predi- 
jiced  in  favor  of  Dunk  ;  and  so  when  he  broke  down  in 
his  head  as  well  as  his  body,  and  didn't  hardly  have 
sense  enough  to  git  out  of  a  shower  o'  rain,  much  less 
make  a  will,  she  got  that  fellow  Suttle  to  write  one,  and 
then  made  Mr.  Guthrie  sign  it,  givin'  the  whole  kit 
and  bilin'  of  it  to  her  a  even  includin'  the  appurt'n- 
ances.  But  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  that  to-day,  so 
soon  after  haulin'  Jack  over  the  coals.     I  come  in  on  a 


42  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

little  business,  and  as  I  was  about  to  go  back  home,  I 
thought  I'd  step  in  and  see  how  you  was  a  thrivin'. 
The  sight  of  Dunk  Guthrie  made  me  think  of  Jack, 
and  the  mad  come  over  me  not  expected.  What's  on 
top  of  his  big  mind  to-day  ?  I  heerd  him  a-ex'cisin'  his 
woice  time  I  put  my  foot  on  the  tavern  step." 

"We  were  discussing  the  question  of  dueling  that 
was  suggested  by  the  late  rencounter  between  Gregory 
and  General  Frierson." 

The  little  man  laughed. 

"  Yes  ;  he's  a  nice  fellow  to  talk  about  julin !  Well,  I 
got  to  go  back.  Take  care  o'  yourself,  Tom.  You 
know  I  can't  be  always  with  you  to  keep  you  out  of 
destruction.     Good-day." 

As  this  gentleman  is  to  take  a  part  in  a  few  of  the 
scenes  in  this  story,  I  must  give  some  account  of  him 
and  his  surroundings. 

Two  miles  south  of  town,  near  the  road  leading  to 
Philips's  Bridge  on  Little  River,  in  a  humble  story- 
and-a-half  house,  surrounded  by  a  few  large  red  oaks, 
dwelt  the  Widow  Braddy  and  her  two  children,  Martha 
Simkins,  now  a  widow,  and  Peterson,  whom  we  have 
just  seen.  They  owned  a  small  farm  of  very  good 
land,  adjoining  a  larger  estate  of  William  Pruitt,  who 
was  Mrs.  Simkins's  son-in-law.  They  had  a  few  ne- 
groes, whom  they  worked  with  moderation.  Not  am- 
bitious to  be  rich,  they  lived  freely  and  so  hospitably 
that  they  made  but  slow  reductions  of  a  debt  left  by 
their  late  head  as  surety  for  one  of  his  neighbors. 
There  was  much  family  affection  among  them,  especial- 
ly on  the  part  of  all  the  rest  for  Peterson,  who,  not- 
withstanding his  fondness  for  societv  of  various  sorts, 


PETERSON  BRADDY.  43 

was  never  neglectful  of  home  duties,  for  the  sake  of 
which  he  had  remained  unmarried.  At  home,  simple 
and  deferential  to  his  mother  and  his  widowed  sister, 
abroad,  the  announcement  of  his  views  was  in  inverse 
ratio  to  the  size  of  his  body  and  the  extent  of  his  in- 
formation. Yet  the  full  trust  that  everybody  had  in 
his  integrity  and  courage  kept  him  from  being  made  a 
butt  of  any  more  ridicule  than  he  seemed  willing  to  en- 
dure. His  sleeping  chamber,  detached  from  the  main 
dwelling,  was  a  sufficiently  comfortable  hewed  log  struct- 
ure of  sixteen  feet  square,  situated  in  a  corner  of  the 
yard  near  the  garden  gate ;  for  he  was  fond  of  being 
considered  and  called  a  little  wild,  and  his  hours  did 
not  always  suit  those  of  the  ladies  whose  wont  was  to 
retire  to  bed  of  nights  at  nine  o'clock.  In  these  bache- 
lor quarters  he  usually  did  likewise  when  he  had  no 
companions.  Young  men  from  the  neighborhood  and 
from  town,  after  being  out  there  to  supper,  which  they 
knew  before  was  to  be  as  square  a  meal  as  any  reason- 
able body  would  conscientiously  look  for,  afterward  de- 
layed for  a  little  game  of  "  poker  "  or  "  old  sledge." 
The  stake  was  always  inconsiderable  ;  but  it  was  pleas- 
ant among  his  companions  to  hear  him  curse  the  cards 
whenever  he  was  loser  and  lift  up  his  laugh  when  he 
had  an  extra  dollar  or  two  at  the  end.  It  was  not  that 
he  cared  so  much  for  the  money,  although  in  money 
matters  calculating  and  economical,  but  he  delighted  in 
victory  even  more  than  he  raged  at  defeat.  In  business 
matters  he  was  thoroughly  reliable.  In  reports  of  what 
he  had  done  he  was  always  pardoned  for  suspected 
exaggerations.  The  principal  field  of  his  autobiograph- 
ical narrations  was  the  State  of  Florida,  where,  when  he 


44  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

was  about  grown,  he  served  with  General  Floyd  during 
the  military  operations  under  General  Jackson  in  the 
late  war  with  Great  Britain.  It  was  the  pride  of  his 
life  that  he  had  been  with  that  illustrious  hero  and 
known  him  personally.  In  his  eyes  dueling  had  been 
consecrated  ever  since  the  meeting  of  Jackson  with 
Dickinson.  Personal  courage  he  regarded  as  the  high- 
est attribute  of  a  man,  and  he  was  one  of  those,  not 
numerous,  who,  while  fond  of  talking  about  fighting, 
was  intrepid  to  the  last  degree.  Not  quarrelsome,  a 
taker  as  freely  as  a  giver  of  practical  jokes,  yet  on  pub- 
lic occasions,  as  election  days,  muster  days,  days  of 
court  sessions,  and  sometimes  unmarked  days,  besides  a 
heavy  walking-stick  heavily  loaded  with  an  iron  point, 
he  carried  a  small  single-barreled  pistol.  This  last  he 
had  never  been  known  to  draw  but  once,  and  that  was  on 
an  election  day,  when,  having  given  his  cane  to  a  small 
man  whom  he  did  not  know,  but  who  was  backing 
from  the  assault  of  one  his  superior  in  size  and  strength, 
he  made  himself  ready  to  defend  his  own  interference. 

"  The  fact  of  the  business  is,"  he  said  sometimes, 
"  I'm  most  ashamed  to  ever  put  a  pistol  in  my  pocket ; 
but,  as  everybody  knows,  I'm  not  a  very  large  man,  and 
I  have  my  opinions,  and  I  don't  exactly  like  the  idea 
of  bein'  run  over  when  I'm  a  expressin'  of  'em  ;  and 
fightin'  these  days,  I  mean  honor'ble  fightin',  has  got  to 
that,  if  you  channelge  a  man,  he'll  aggervate  you  worse 
by  pleadin'  he  aint  your  equil,  and  in  that  way  crawfish 
out  of  it." 

Some  there  were,  not  many,  who  knew  that  in  these 
last  words  he  alluded  to  Duncan  Guthrie,  with  whom 
only  a  few  weeks  before  the  latter's  marriage  he  and 


PETERSON   BRADDY.  45 

his  family  had  had  a  rather  trying  experience.  Emily 
Simkins,  his  sister's  daughter,  at  iifteen  was  almost  a 
beauty.  Already  at  the  village  school  she  had  got 
more  education  than  had  fallen  to  the  lot  of  the  rest  of 
the  family,  when  William  Pruitt,  a  sturdy  well-to-do 
young  bachelor  near  by,  made  her  an  offer  of  marriage. 
The  girl,  knowing  what  a  good  opportunity  it  was, 
and  seeing  that  her  family  were  much  in  favor  of  it, 
accepted  on  condition  that  she  should  have  another 
year's  schooling.  In  the  following  fall  it  was  noticed 
that  she  began  to  talk  about  her  lover  and  to  him  with 
less  cordiality  than  theretofore.  His  patient  nature  and 
his  great  love  for  her  made  him  endure  without  com- 
plaint. In  this  while  she  was  more  vivacious  than 
usual,  and  took  uncommon  pains  in  her  dressing  and 
such  adornings  as  she  could  command.  She  usually 
went  forth  and  back  with  some  other  children  whose 
parents  dwelt  a  little  further  on  from  town.  Latterly 
on  the  return  she  often  loitered  behind  them,  getting 
home  alone.  One  evening  her  mother  having  ex- 
pressed her  disapproval  of  such  behavior,  she  answered 
fretfully  : 

"  Ma,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  pester  yourself  about  me." 
I  know  how  to  take  care  of  myself." 

This  answer,  uttered  at  the  back  door,  was  over- 
heard by  her  uncle,  who  was  sitting  under  a  fig-tree 
before  his  door. 

"  Why  high ! "  he  exclaimed,  to  her  surprise  and 
alarm;  for,  with  all  her  fond  affection  for  him,  she 
dreaded  his  displeasure  more  than  that  of  both  mother 
and  grandmother.  Inquiring  the  occasion  of  such  petu- 
lance, he  learned  that  for  several  evenings  Duncan  Guth- 


46  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

rie  had  joined  her  at  the  edge  of  town  as  she  lingered 
behind  her  companions,  and  had  accompanied  her  a  part 
of  the  way  home.  Alarmed  and  incensed,  he  questioned 
the  girl  closely  enough  to  find  out  that  Guthrie,  deny- 
ing the  reports  of  his  engagement  to  Miss  Ludwell,  had 
been  making  pretense  of  love  to  her.  She  was  stopped 
from  school  at  once,  and  this  fact  was  made  known  to 
Guthrie  the  next  day  by  the  children,  of  whom  he  had 
inquired  the  cause  of  her  absence.  "William  Pruitt,  for- 
giving her  temporary  disloyalty,  took  her  to  wife  a  few 
weeks  afterward,  and  since  they  had  been  living  in  con- 
tentment. But  one  morning,  some  days  after  hearing 
of  the  connection  with  Guthrie,  Braddy  rode  leisurely 
to  town,  hitched  his  horse  to  a  rack  on  the  court  house 
square,  and  seeing  Guthrie  among  others  before  the 
door  of  the  post-office,  where  the  weekly  mail  from 
Augusta  was  being  distributed,  he  sauntered  thither. 
Cordially  greeted  by  all,  after  returning  their  friendly 
assurances,  he  rested  his  eyes  with  apparent  complacency 
upon  Guthrie. 

"  What's  all  the  news  with  you,  Pete  ?  "  said  the 
latter. 

"Oh,  nothin'  so  very  interestin'.  Country  folks 
have  to  come  to  town  to  git  news.  They  tell  me  there's 
a  weddin'  on  hand.     That's  always  good  news." 

"  Aye  !  what's  up  now  ?  " 

"  I'm  told  that  you're  to  go  through  the  prelimi- 
naries before  long  somewheres  t'other  side  of  Broad 
Eiver." 

"  But,  Pete,  you  know  that  is  nobody's  business  but 
mine." 

"  Oh,  that's  so,  I  expect,  Mr.  Guthrie ;  still,  that  kind 


■VI    \J  I 1  x^lu 


\eyie 


"I  got  a  little  business  with  you.  Mr.  Guthrie." 


PETERSON  BRADDY.  47 

o'  news  is  always  in  gener'l  interestin'  in  a  community 
where  such  high  and  interestin'  people  lives." 

Guthrie  looked  at  him  darkly,  and  his  look  was  met 
with  a  steadiness  that  seemed  as  if  its  giver  was  amused. 
After  a  moment  the  countryman  said  : 

"  I  got  a  little  business  with  you,  Mr.  Guthrie,  when 
it  suit  you." 

"  All  right,  Pete,"  he  answered,  dismissing  the 
feeling  that  had  risen  momentarily  at  what  he  consid- 
ered a  rather  insolent  liberty.  "  Come  to  my  office  in 
half  an  hour." 

When  he  entered  the  office,  Guthrie,  from  an  arm- 
chair by  his  desk,  said  : 

"  Take  a  seat,  Pete." 

"  I  don't  care  about  settin',  Mr.  Guthrie.  It  ain't  a 
business  of  law  I  wanted  to  see  you  about,  because,  in 
a  event  of  that  kind,  there's  other  people  I  should  call 
on.  I  just  wanted  to  say  that  your  waylayin'  of  my 
sister's  daughter,  that  she's  not  old  enough  to  know  the 
worth  of  any  sort  of  attentions  from  a  man  like  you, 
weren't  what  a  honor'ble  man,  and  one  promised  to  a 
honor'ble  woman,  it  weren't  what  he  ought  to  have 
done." 

Guthrie  rose,  took  from  the  mantel  a  box  of  cigars, 
chose  one,  bit  it,  and,  partially  extending  the  box,  said  : 

"  Smoke  ? " 

"  I  do,  but  not  now." 

"  Mr.  Braddy,"  said  Duncan,  shifting  his  cigar  about 
in  his  mouth,  "  I  declare  I  don't  exactly  know  what 
you  mean  by  such  talk.  As  for  the  few  little  playful 
chats  with  your  niece,  which  I  thought  she  understood, 
I— of  course,  if  she  says  so — I'll  not  repeat  them." 


48  WIDOW   GUTHRIE. 

"  It  ain't  her  that  has  anything  to  say  to  you  about 
it,  sir  ;  it's  me." 

"  O  Braddy,"  waving  his  hand  testily,  "  I've  no  time 
to  be  discussing  such  a  trilling  affair  with  you,  and  I've 
got  no  more  to  say  about  it." 

"  All  right,  sir ;  I  just  wanted  to  tell  you  that  if  it 
wasn't  for  fetchin'  out  my  sister's  child's  name,  I'd 
channelge  you  to  tight  a  juel,  sir." 

A  hearty  laugh  was  the  answer  to  this  threatening 
speech.  A  quivering  hand  was  thrown  by  Braddy  be- 
hind him,  and  grasped  the  weapon  in  his  coat  pocket. 
An  instant  afterward  he  smiled  and  said : 

"  No,  it  wouldn't  be  right.  There's  no  more  dan- 
ger in  him  nohow.  But,  lookee  here,  my  Lord  Guth- 
rie, as  old  Gen'al  Jackson  used  to  call  people  he 
had  a  perfect  contemp'  for,  I  give  you  warnin'  not 
to  cross  my  path  any  more.  If  you  do,  and  then 
is  above  fightin'  a  juel  with  such  as  me,  I'll  shoot 
you  the  same  as  I'd  shoot  a  dog  after  one  of  my 
lambs." 

Then  he  turned  and  slowly  went  out. 

Few  men  were  more  brave  than  Guthrie,  and  few 
more  apt  to  recognize  the  necessity  of  curbing  resent- 
ment. In  any  circumstances  it  would  have  seemed  to 
him  ridiculous  to  have  to  accord  to  such  a  man  the  sat- 
isfaction then  usual  among  gentlemen  ;  but,  except  for 
his  approaching  marriage,  he  would  have  attempted  to 
chastise  him.  As  it  was,  he  congratulated  himself  upon 
his  composure.  Yet  on  the  next  day  he  rode  up  to  the 
LudwelFs  and  succeeded  in  hastening  his  marriage, 
which  took  place  soon  thereafter.  There  was  some 
talk  about  the  affair,  but  the  girl's  marriage  put  an 


MISS  JEWELL  AT   DUNCAN   GUTHRIE'S.  49 

end  to  it.  From  that  time,  whenever  Braddy  spoke 
of  Guthrie,  and  .  this  was  seldom,  it  was  with  dis- 
gust. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MISS   JEWELL    AT    DUNCAN    GUTHKIe's. 

One  outcome  of  the  restoration  of  Alice  to  health 
and  confidence,  and  from  these  to  cheerfulness,  was  the 
following  : 

"  Duncan,"  she  said  one  morning  when  breakfast 
was  over,  "if  it  will  suit  your  convenience  and  your 
wishes,  I  am  going  to  invite  Miss  Jewell  to  tea  and  to 
spend  this  evening  with  us." 

"  All  right,  darling,"  he  answered,  "  if  you  feel  like 
it.  I  don't  know  but  what  we  would  be  expected  to 
show  her  some  little  civility  for  the  sake  of  the  school 
if  nothing  else.  But  I  want  you  to  do  just  as  you  feel 
like  doing." 

Kissing  her  good-by,  he  left  at  once  and  proceeded 
to  his  office.  An  hour  afterward  Miss  Jewell  received 
a  note  of  invitation  for  that  same  evening,  Alice  adding 
that  she  would  provide  for  her  an  escort  home  after- 
ward. 

It  was  a  good  supper  and  a  dainty.  The  hostess,  in 
a  pale  gown  with  flowing  drapery  which  set  off  mod- 
estly her  fine  figure,  was  cordially  hospitable.  As  if 
she  would  make  manifest  her  entire  confidence  in  her 
husband  and  her  guest,  she  remained  longer  than  was 


50  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

necessary  in  the  dining-room,  to  have  the  table  cleared 
and  the  china  and  silver  put  away.  Afterward  she  did 
her  best  to  make  her  entertainment  pleasant  to  both. 
Her  husband,  well  experienced  in  society,  made  himself 
agreeable  to  both  ladies,  and  seemed  by  his  well-timed 
remarks  to  wish  them  to  be  well  pleased  with  each 
other.  Once  while  standing  near  his  wife,  placing  an 
arm  behind  her  back,  he  said  : 

"  Miss  Jewell,  I  had  heard  of  a  rare  flower  that  was 
in  bloom  near  the  bank  of  Dove  Creek  beyond  Broad 
River,  and  I  went  up  there  to  look  for  it.  When  I  saw 
it  I  plucked  it  with  all  possible  speed,  fearing  that  if  its 
existence  should  become  known  to  other  men  it  might 
be  lost  to  me." 

"  It  was  a  thing  to  do,  Mr.  Guthrie,"  said  Miss  Jew- 
ell, "  as  happy  as  it  was  prompt." 

Alice  accepted  their  compliments  as  things  more 
than  she  expected,  and  set  herself  to  other  entertain- 
ment. Miss  Jewell  brightened  more  and  more,  and 
when  at  the  piano  played  with  noticeable  preference 
the  pieces  that  Alice  had  asked  for.  In  their  intervals 
she  addressed  herself  mainly  to  her,  and  praised,  but 
not  too  much,  the  arrangement  of  her  furniture  and  the 
flowers  in  the  vases.  A  true  man  would  have  been 
pleased  by  what  he  knew  to  have  been  done  at  some 
sacrifice.  As  it  was,  after  making  his  one  speech,  he 
smiled  feebly  at  the  efforts  of  these  ladies  to  entertain 
each  other,  and  seemed  to  be  waiting  with  commenda- 
ble patience  for  the  evening  to  come  to  an  end.  All 
except  Miss  Jewell  were  surprised  at  ten  o'clock  by  a 
knock  at  the  door. 

"  Aye,"  said  she  in  a  business-like  tone,  rising  from 


MISS  JEWELL  AT  DUNCAN  GUTHRIE'S.  51 

the  sofa,  "  there  is  Mr.  Tolly,  whom  I  asked  to  come 
for  me." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Alice.  "  Why,  Miss  Jewell, 
Duncan  has  been  expecting  to  take  you  home." 

"  Ah  ha ! "  answered  the  guest,  raising  a  finger, 
"but  that  was  a  trouble  that  I  meant  to  spare  this 
house,  and  so  I  put  it  upon  one  whom  I  knew  it  would 
not  very  much  discomfit." 

Tolly,  admitted  by  a  servant,  entered  the  drawing- 
room,  hat  in  hand.  It  was  his  first  appearance  there ; 
for,  although  Alice  had  suggested  it  once,  and  only 
once,  he  had  never  been  invited  to  the  house.  She 
met  him  with  both  hands  extended. 

"  Hello,  Tolly !  "  cried  Guthrie,  with  enforced  cor- 
diality, "  I'm  glad  to  see  you  ;  rather,  I'm  sorry,  consid- 
ering the  errand  on  which  you  have  come,"  taking  his  hat 
and  putting  it  on  the  rack.  Then  he  added  with  polite 
complaining  :  "  As  this  is  the  first  time  that  you  have 
honored  this  house  with  a  visit,  you  shall  sit  down  and 
take  of  such  refection  as  Mrs.  Guthrie  may  have  to 
offer  to  so  distinguished  a  guest." 

Tolly  took  a  chair  and  accepted  easily  what  was 
brought  in.  In  his  own  house  Guthrie  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  covering  his  disappointment.  The  rights 
and  duties  of  hospitality  in  that  generation  had  kept 
much  of  their  old-time  sacredness,  and,  a  man  of 
brave  instincts,  he  could  not  but  feel  some  pleasure  in 
having  under  his  roof  such  a  man  as  Tom  Tolly,  and 
some  regret  that  he  had  not  been  there  sooner.  Alice 
behaved  toward  the  guest  with  a  simple  graciousness 
that  was  delightful,  and  in  the  brief  while  that  he  was 
there  seemed  to   him,  while   chatting  and  looking  at 


52  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

Miss  Jewell,  sometimes  as  if  slie  would  appeal  to  her 
not  to  molest  her  in  the  possession  of  what  undenia- 
bly was  her  own.  When  they  were  about  to  leave  she 
said  : 

"  Mr.  Tolly,  here  are  some  flowers  that  I  gathered 
for  Miss  Jewell  this  evening,  and  have  been  keeping  in 
water  that  they  might  remain  fresh.  Now,  sir,  you 
are  to  carry  them  for  her  with  much  carefulness.  In 
advance,  as  part  of  your  reward,  I  pin  this  rosebud  and 
this  little  white  jessamine  on  your  coat.  The  rest  you 
are  to  have  in  the  pleasure  of  escorting  her  home." 

When  they  had  gone,  Guthrie  said  : 

"  You  did  nicely,  Alice,  very  nicely."  Then  light- 
ing a  cigar,  he  went  out  into  the  piazza  and  sat  and 
smoked  until  long  after  she  had  gone  to  bed.  She  had 
expected  a  more  hearty  indorsement.  Now  she  felt 
disappointed  and  humiliated.  Yet  she  tried  not  to 
complain  even  to  her  own  heart,  and,  after  saying  her 
prayers,  went  to  bed  and  in  time  found  sleep. 

"  How  well  Mrs.  Guthrie  shows  in  her  own  house  ? " 
Miss  Jewell  said  to  Tolly ;  "  her  tastefulness  and  her 
ladylike  hospitality  impressed  me  much." 

"  Yes.  Guthrie,  if  he  could  know  it — that  is,  if  lie 
could  know  it  constantly — has  for  wife  an  uncommonly 
fine  woman." 

"  Of  course  he  knows  it,  Mr.  Tolly.  He  seemed  to- 
night particularly  fond  of  her." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it ;  yet  he  could  not  hide  from 
me  at  least  his  disappointment  at  my  coming  for  you." 

"  That  must  have  been  only  in  your  imagination.  I 
only  wished  to  save  them  inconvenience — begging  your 
pardon  for  preferring  to  put  it  upon  you.    I  would  have 


MISS  JEWELL  AT  DUNCAN  GUTHRIE'S.  53 

asked  Cousin  William  to  call  for  me,  but  he  was  busy 
looking  over  the  girls'  compositions.  Then  I  knew,  at 
least  I  decided,  that  you  had  no  very  troublesome  in- 
cumbrances on  hand,  since  it  was  only  last  night  that 
you  were  at  the  Macfarlanes."  Then  she  slightly  shook 
his  arm  and  laughed  merrily. 

"  How  did  you  know  that  ? " 

"  Charlotte  came  to  see  me  this  morning  and  men- 
tioned that  as  one  of  the  incidents  in  recent  village  his- 
tory." 

"  Aye  ?  You  know,  Miss  Jewell,  that  you  may  al- 
ways command  my  service,  the  same  as  if  I  were — your 
brother." 

"  Oh,  that  dash,  Mr.  Tolly  !  " 

Then  they  both  laughed  heartily,  and  Tolly  said  : 
"  If  Guthrie  suspected  that  I  had  ambition  to  be  any 
nearer  than  that,  and  besides  had  any  even  remote 
chance  of  succsss,  he  would  have  looked  longer  than 
momentarily  dark  at  my  unexpected  entrance  to-night." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?  You  are  a  goose, 
Tom  Tolly,  as  the  men  folks  call  you." 

"  But  even  a  goose  may  be  of  value  sometimes  be- 
sides the  humble  uses  which  are  generally  made  of  him. 
Recall,  if  you  please,  the  happy  consequence  of  his 
cackling  in  the  Roman  citadel."  He  looked  smiling 
toward  her,  as  if  this  bit  of  pedantry  was  meant  for 
mere  pleasant  badinage.  She  so  understood  it,  but 
presently  said : 

"Do  you  know,  Mr.  Tolly,  that  lately,  and  until  I 
received  an  invitation  to  sup  there  to-night,  I  have  had 
an  idea  that  Mrs.  Guthrie  disliked  me  ?  Why,  that  night 
at  our  house,  when  I  was  doing  my  best  to  entertain 


54  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

her,  she  kept  herself  as  cool  as  a  cucumber,  as  you  peo- 
ple say.  I  do  think  you  all  have  some  of  the  funniest 
phrases !  I  never  did  anything  to  her  that  she  should 
be  a  cucumber  to  me.  But  I  concluded  that  perhaps 
she  was  not  quite  well.  Indeed,  Charlotte  told  me 
afterward  that  she  was  not.  To-night  she  was  as  cor- 
dial as  could  be.  She'd  be  weak  to  let  herself  be  fret- 
ted by  her  husband's  attentions  to  other  women." 

"  I  am  confident  that  she  does  not,  in  general ; 
though  perhaps  sometimes  she  may  think  that  they're 
more  pointed  than  those  of  a  married  man  should  be." 

"  Well,  well !  You  know,  Mr.  Tolly,  that  that's  one 
objection  I  have  to  country  society  ?  It  is  so  in  New 
England,  and,  if  anything,  more  so  here.  Married  peo- 
ple are  expected  to  be  always  on  their p's  and  q's  with 
unmarried.  If  I  ever  get  married,  I  am  going  to  let  my 
husband  know  from  the  start  that  I  don't  consider  him 
the  only  interesting  man  in  the  world  or  among  my  ac- 
quaintance, and  that  I  expect  to  admire  other  men  that 
are  to  be  admired,  just  as  I  do  now,  and  that  I  shall  be 
rather  tired  of  him  if  he  does  not  feel  the  same  about 
other  women,  instead  of  tagging  on  to  me  all  the  time 
as  if  he  were  afraid  of  both  of  us  otherwise  going  to 
destruction.  Now,  the  truth  is  I  wanted  to  waltz  with 
Mr.  Guthrie  that  night;  because  there's  little  enjoy- 
ment in  waltzing  without  a  woman  has  a  man  to  sup- 
port her.  But  Cousin  William  must  shake  his  head, 
though  he  acknowledged  afterward  that  he  didn't  think 
there  was  a  particle  of  harm  in  it,  but  that  some  of  his 
patrons  might  not  have  liked  it,  as  I  was  one  of  the 
teachers,  and  he  added  that  he  doubted  if  Mrs.  Guthrie 
would.     I  had  just  to  laugh  about  that,  and  I  believe, 


MISS  JEWELL  AT  DUNCAN  GUTIIRIE'S.  55 

from  her  treatment  of  me  to-night,  that  Cousin  "William 
was  mistaken,  and  that  she  acted  so  only  because  she 
was  not  quite  well.  For  surely  the  woman  has  more 
sense  than  to  be  fretted  by  such  a  trifling  matter." 

"  I  was  glad  you  rejected  Guthrie's  proposal  to 
waltz." 

"  Why  so  ?  Because  the  sight  of  us  might  have 
made  you  sorry  that  you  couldn't  have  similar  fun  with 
Charlotte  ?  She's  a  beautiful  waltzer."  She  tapped  his 
arm  with  her  fan. 

"  Oh,  no ;  first,  I've  never  learned  to  waltz ;  but  if 
I  had,  I  rather  think  I  should  never  ask  a  woman  in 
this  society,  as  it  has  become  now,  to  join  me  in  that 
amusement,  especially  before  the  faces  of  elderly  per- 
sons, who,  I  would  be  sure,  would  rather  that  it  were 
not  done.  About  such  things  Guthrie  is  defiant  and 
audacious.  He  knew  that  he  ought  not  to  have  pro- 
posed to  you  to  waltz  with  him — at  least  on  that  occa- 
sion, for  your  sake,  if  no  other's  ;  because  here  you  are 
comparatively  a  stranger." 

"  I  hope  I  know  how  to  take  care  of  myself,  Mr. 
Tolly.  Now,  I'll  just  say  this,  that  I  think  all  such  as 
that  is  nonsensical  despotism,  and  I  don't  propose  to 
submit  to  it  any  more  than  I'm  obliged  to.  Why,  it  is 
too  ridiculous."  She  laughed  outright,  and  thus  pro- 
ceeded :  "  I  suppose  if  it  becomes  known  in  this  burgh 
that  I  asked  you  to  come  for  me  to-night,  it  will  ruin 
me.  But,  then,  I  can  deny  it,  you  know.  You're  a 
sort  of  Puritan,  yourself,  young  man,  a  species  of  the 
animal  creation  that  I  did  not  expect  to  find  in  this 
warm,  sweet  latitude.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  that's  the 
only  objection  I'd  have  to  you  if  you  were  a  richer  and 


56  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

more  distinguished  man.  You  seem  so  moral  and  good 
that  I'm  almost  afraid  you  are  deceitful."  Then  she 
laughed  aloud.  "  Oh,  law  me  !  "  she  continued,  "  how 
imprudent  I  am  in  running  on  thus  with  a  young  man 
on  the  street  at  this  time  of  night !  But  I  told  Char- 
lotte that  very  thing  about  you,  not  that  you  were  de- 
ceitful, but  that  you  were  too  good ;  and  I  told  her  so 
because  I  knew  you  were  in  love  with  her.  But  I  didn't 
tell  her  that.  You  want  to  know  the  reason  why  ?  Be- 
cause I  didnt  think  it  was  just  the  thing  for  her  to 
know  certainly  that  you  did  love  her.  I'm  talking  to 
you  as  if  we  were  confidants,  as  I'm  sure  we  will  be 
some  day,  unless  I  should  get  to  be  too  bad  or  you  too 
good,  both  which  extremes,  in  my  opinion,  people  ought 
to  avoid.  You  are  right  in  not  courting  Charlotte  yet. 
She  likes  you  better  than  she  thinks  she  does.  But 
you've  got  to  do  something  much  greater  than  you  have 
done  yet  before  you  can  be  bold  to  advantage  in  that 
suit.  The  Macfarlanes,  however,  I  think,  could  be  won 
out  of  any  prejudices  they  may  have  sooner  than  the 
Guthries ;  but  thafs  because  mainly  of  your  profes- 
sional rivalry  to  Mr.  Duncan.  I  mean  to  see  if  I  can't 
do  something  with  him  in  your  interest." 

"  My  clear  Miss  Jewell,  I'd  much  rather  you  would 
not."     Again  she  laughed  aloud. 

"  I  knew  you'd  say  that ;  at  least  I  thought  so,  and  I 
talked  so  to  try  you.  Still,  if  I  should  get  to  knowing 
Mr.  Guthrie  better,  and  /don't  see  why  I  should  not,  I 
mean  at  least  to  hint  to  him  that  a  man  as  prosperous 
in  every  way  as  he  is  ought  to  feel  that  he  could  '  tote 
far,'  as  the  negroes  here  say,  with  others  who  are  not 
so  fortunately  settled.     Do  you  know,  my  fair  youth, 


MISS  JEWELL  AT  DUNCAN  GUTHRIE'S.  57 

that  but  for  one  thing,  poor  as  I  am,  and  poor  as  they 
say  you  are,  I  might  have  set  cap  for  you  myself  ?  " 

"And  what  barrier  so  dire  got  between  me  and 
such  consummate  felicity  ? " 

"  Oh,  la !  I  doubt  if  even  Mr.  Guthrie  could  have 
made  such  a  gallant  speech.  Well,  sir,  one  reason  is, 
that  I'm  not  yet  in  the  humor  to  be  tied  to  one  who,  in 
spite  of  what  I  can  do  or  say,  I  suppose  must  be  my 
head.  Then,  I  think,  I  can  do  better."  She  shook  his 
arm  in  the  exuberance  of  the  gayety  of  this  last  reason. 

"  The  last  is  sufficient,"  said  Tolly  humbly.  "  You 
ought  to  do  better,  Miss  Jewell,  a  great  deal  better.  I 
suppose  you  have  already  such  a  one  in  your  mind." 

"  Well — no  ;  not  exactly.  What  I  want  now  mostly 
is,  not  a  beau,  that  is,  a  lover — and,  if  I  did,  Charlotte 
has  o;ot  ahead  of  me :  but  I  want  a — a  sort  of  cousin. 
Won't  you  be  a  poor  Yankee  girl's  cousin  ?  You  un- 
derstand ?  No  %  Well,  well,  you  will  in  time.  I  want 
a  fellow  that  I  can  call  cousin  and  talk  with  confiden- 
tially and— and — do  you  know  a  lawyer  in  Augusta 
named  Bond  ? " 

"  Christopher  Bond  ? " 

"  Yes,  a  good  pious  name,  isn't  it  ? " 

"I've  seen  him  at  Columbia  County  Court  once. 
They  say  he  is  quite  promising.     What  about  him  ? " 

"  Oh,  nothing  much.  It  has  occurred  to  me  several 
times  to  ask  if  you  knew  him.  He's  a  good  friend  of 
Mr.  Dunbar  and  my  sister.  She  wrote  me  that  he 
might  come  to  your  spring  court,  as  Mr.  Dunbar  has 
a  little  business  here.  If  he  does,  you  must  be  good 
to  him,  for  her  sake  and  mine,  my  very  dear  cousin. 
Hear?" 


58  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  I  hear,  and  will  attend  to  the  gentleman  as  well  as 
I  know  how,  for  all  sakes." 

"  That's  a  good  cousin.  La  La !  Here  we  are 
home !  Let  me  see.  Yes ;  you've  brought  securely  my 
flowers  and  me.  Good-night ;  don't  get  into  any  mis- 
chief on  the  way  home." 

Then  she  ran  up  the  steps. 

Tolly  debated  with  himself  that  night  whether  he 
ought  not  to  have  given  her  more  distinct  warning, 
particularly  regarding  Guthrie.  He  believed  her  en- 
tirely honorable,  and  so  did  the  whole  community, 
strict  as  was  the  common  law  of  its  society,  and  her 
accomplishments,  with  her  faithful,  laborious  attention 
to  her  school  engagements,  had  made  her  very  popular. 
Yet  some  of  the  more  elderly  ladies  occasionally  had 
expressed  the  wish  that  Miss  Jewell,  being  a  new  comer 
and  a  teacher,  would  not  be  quite  so  free  in  young 
men's  society,  for  the  sake  of  example  to  the  school- 
girls, you  know,  mistress  so-and-so,  or  sister  so-and-so. 
So  Tolly  debated,  but  to  the  time  of  going  to  sleep,  he 
had  not  quite  decided.  The  next  morning,  Guthrie, 
while  passing  him  on  the  street,  lingered  to  say : 

"  You  cut  me  out  last  night,  Tolly.  Isn't  she  a 
splendid,  voluptuous  looking  creature  ?  " 

"  Voluptuous,  Mr.  Guthrie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  anything  bad." 

Then  he  went  on  his  way. 

"You  do  mean  bad,"  muttered  Tolly,  and  after- 
Avard  he  wished  that  he  had  gone  at  once  to  Miss  Jewell 
and  given  her  warning. 


CHRISTOPHER  BOND.  59 

CHAPTER  VII. 

CHRISTOPHER   BOND. 

On  Greene  Street,  in  the  city  of  Augusta,  near  the 
intersection  of  Mcintosh,  was  a  large  brick  mansion 
in  which  dwelt  the  Dunbars.  George  Dunbar,  six 
years  back  a  student  at  Harvard  University,  had  left 
that  seat  of  learning  without  taking  a  degree,  having 
made  up  his  mind  to  follow  the  business  of  his  lately 
deceased  father,  a  hardware  merchant.  But  this  was 
not  done  until  after  he  had  contracted  with  Miss 
Jewell,  an  older  sister  of  Sarah,  for  a  marriage  which 
came  off  a  year  afterward.  He  became  heir  (besides 
the  business)  to  this  house  and  another  three  miles  out 
of  town  on  the  Sand  Hills,  by  some  called  Summer- 
ville.  It  was  while  on  a  visit  to  her  sister  that  Sarah 
had  been  prevailed  upon  by  Mr.  Wendell  to  be  one  of 
his  assistants.  During  her  sojourn  of  several  months, 
among  other  acquaintances  made  by  her,  was  that  of 
Christopher  Bond,  a  young  lawyer  who  had  moved 
there  from  the  county  of  Jefferson  and  was  believed  to 
be  making  his  way  in  the  profession  with  some  rapid- 
ity. Very  tall,  slender,  dark  complexioned,  his  deport- 
ment in  society  effected,  perhaps,  an  earlier  favorable 
impression  because  of  a  sort  of  gravity  which,  while  it 
kept  him  from  making  much  merriment,  did  not  hinder 
a  quiet  enjoyment  of  it  when  made  by  others.  Too 
devoted  to  study  to  have  very  much  to  do  with  soci- 
ety, yet  he  visited  sufficiently  often,  particularly  at  the 
Dunbars,  with  whom  he  had  been  on  terms  of  rather 


60  WIDOW  GUTHEIE. 

intimate  friendship  before  the  coming  of  their  sister. 
Between  her  and  himself  grew  relations  more  cordial 
perhaps  because  of  the  difference  of  their  tempera- 
ments. The  heartiest  laughs  he  could  give  were  at  the 
sallies  of  her  vivacious  humor,  sometimes  when  made 
at  his  own  expense,  as  when  she  merrily  criticised  an 
awkwardness  for  which  he  seemed  not  to  care,  yet  was 
often  promising  to  amend  ;  but  when  he  was  in  serious 
mood,  to  no  other  man's  conversation  did  she  listen 
with  more  pleased  attention.  People  used  to  jest  with 
her  about  the  impression  winch  seemed  to  be  made 
upon  her  by  a  character  so  different  from  her  own, 
whose  chief  interest  came  from  subjects  pertaining  to 
the  bar  or  others  as  serious ;  but  she  answered  lightly, 
as  if  no  two  persons  were  more  likely  to  keep  apart 
than  Bond  and  herself. 

In  those  times  lawyers  at  Augusta  habitually  at- 
tended court  sessions  in  the  count}7-  towns  of  that  judi- 
cial district,  and  occasionally  one  or  two  on  the  eastern 
border  of  the  northern,  in  one  of  which  Clarke  was  the 
county  seat.  It  used  to  be  an  interesting  sight,  the 
judge  with  a  dozen  or  so  of  his  bar,  traveling,  every 
one  in  his  sulky,  from  court  to  court.  Some  of  as 
good  things  as  a  man  fond  of  humor  would  wish  to 
hear  were  uttered  along  the  highway,  in  tones  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  all  along  the  line,  followed  by 
laughter  that  was  echoed  far  on  either  side.  Many  a 
pious  country-woman,  knitting  or  sewing  on  the  porch 
of  her  cottage,  looking  and-  listening  to  the  cavalcade, 
would  reflect  what  an  ungodly  set  they  must  all  be, 
from  the  judge  down. 

Bond,  with  intent  to  extend  his  acquaintance  and 


CHRISTOPHER  BOND.  61 

with  hope  to  better  his  practice,  Avas  beginning  to  at- 
tend a  few  of  these  courts,  and  lie  was  well  pleased 
when  employed  in  one  which,  but  for  Miss  Jewell 
being  there,  was  not  of  importance  enough  to  warrant 
the  expense  of  going  to  Clarke. 

Except  during  Christmas-tide,  court  week  was  the 
gayest  of  all  in  the  year ;  but  of  the  parties  at  this 
March  term  Mrs.  Guthrie's  was  most  notable.  She 
not  often  gave  one,  but  when  she  did  it  lacked  nothing 
to  make  it  successful.  Guests  always  put  on  the  best 
they  had  when  going  to  a  party  at  her  house.  Ladies 
wore — w]iat  we  see  in  portraits  of  those  times,  so  strange 
looking  now,  then  thought  to  be  so  becoming— gowns 
with  short  waists,  houffant  sleeves,  and  a  modest  train, 
silk  stockings,  satin  slippers  fastened  with  ribbons 
crossing  the  ankles  and  upward,  hair,  except  two  or 
three  ringlets  on  either  temple,  wound  in  a  lofty  knot 
behind  and  fastened  with  elaborate  combs  of  tortoise- 
shell.  The  men  were  in  blue  dress-coats  with  brass  but- 
tons, buff  vest  and  trousers,  and  high  white  satin  neck 
stocks.  They  wore  also  silk  stockings  and  slippers. 
Mrs.  Guthrie  shone  in  a  long  gray  silk  gown  that  seemed 
more  becoming  and  interesting  for  being  of  a  fashion 
of  a  quarter  of  a  century  past  that  was  both  more  elab- 
orate and  more  expensive  than  any  of  that  time.  The 
numerous  syllabub  stands,  some  three  feet  high,  holding 
near  a  hundred  tumblers,  with  curiously  cut  paper  hang- 
ings on  the  circumferences  of  the  several  stories,  helped 
to  set  off  tables  heavy  laden  with  viands.  The  gracious- 
ness  of  her  manners  and  her  taste  in  everything  Mere 
subjects  of  general  comment.  She  accepted  congratu- 
lations of  parting  guests  with  mild  satisfaction,  as  if  it 


62  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

had  cost  little  trouble  to  cater  to  people's  tastes  and  en- 
joyments whenever  she  felt  like  it. 

In  accordance  with  his  promise,  Tolly  was  particu- 
larly polite  to  Bond,  and  he  was  well  pleased  when 
Guthrie,  after  several  essays  to  get  Miss  Jewell  into  a 
corner  for  a  special  chat,  failed,  because  she  was  intent 
on  putting  her  friend  at  ease  and  helping  him  to  make 
acquaintances. 

At  the  tavern,  late  that  night,  Seaborn  Torrance,  a 
lawyer  from  the  county  next  below,  said  to  Tolly : 

"Tom,  the  old  lady  Guthrie — isn't  she  royal?  I 
declare  she  looked  as  queenly  as  old  Elizabeth  in  her 
silks  and  flounces  and  laces,  and  I  don't  know  what.  I 
told  Guthrie  I  couldn't  go  there  to-night,  not  having 
with  me  any  party  clothes,  which  I  always  despise  to 
put  on  anyhow,  especially  pumps.  They  made  a  mis- 
take when  they  threw  away  fair-top  boots  and  came 
down  to  pumps.  I'll  swear  they  make  me  feel  as  if  I 
was  barefooted.  However,  Guthrie  told  me  that  his 
mother  said  I  had  to  go,  if  she  had  to  send  a  special 
deputation  to  take  me  in  her  carriage.  So  I  went,  and 
I  was  glad  of  it.  She  impressed  me  deeply.  Why,  sir, 
that  woman  has  sense  like  a  man  ;  and,  don't  you  know  ? 
She  told  me  that  if  she  ever  should  have  a  law  case  of 
importance  she  would  want  me,  and  her  big  fiery  eyes 
showed  that  she  was  in  earnest.  Sensible  woman,  isn't 
she?  Ah!  ha!  And  that's  a  blamed  fine -looking 
woman,  that  Boston  schoolmistress.  Guthrie,  a  rogue, 
tried  to  get  her  to  himself,  and  looked  at  her  as  if  he'd 
like  to  eat  her  up.  He'd  better  mind  ;  married  man,  and 
with  such  an  elegant  wife.  I'm  not  sure  that  she  wasn't 
the  most  interesting-looking  woman  there,  of  course  ex- 


CHRISTOPHER  BOND.  63 

cepting  tlie  hostess.  She — oh,  ray  Lord  ! — she  was  head 
and  shoulders  above  them  all.  I  think  she  knew  it,  too, 
but  didn't  think  it  worth  while  to  be  proud  of  it." 

Bond's  case  was  not  tried,  yet  he  lingered  several 
days  after  adjournment  of  the  court  with  prospect  of  a 
settlement,  which  was  effected  through  Tolly.  In  this 
while  these  two  formed  somewhat  of  a  friendship.  The 
night  before  Bond  was  to  leave,  he  said : 

"  I  like  this  village,  Tolly,  and  am  glad  that  business, 
unimportant  as  it  was,  brought  me  here.  There's  quite 
a  city-like  air  about  it.  I  have  met  several,  men  as  well 
as  women,  who  in  what  people  call  society  are  as  mi  fait 
as  any  in  Augusta.  My !  what  the  collecting  of  four 
or  five  families  with  good  manners  and  taste  can  make 
of  even  a  small  village  !  What  a  fine  woman  is  Miss 
Macfarlane  !  But  it  is  easy  to  see  that  you  found  that 
out  long  ago.  So  has  young  Jamison ;  but  I,  who  am 
a  poor  judge  of  such  things,  thought  that  I  could  see 
that  she  didn't  take  much  interest  in  his  small  talk.  I 
suspect  he's  been  running  too  mainly  on  his  father's 
success  to  be  much  anywhere.  Yes,  she's  a  fine  young 
woman,  isn't  she  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  it  takes  only  a  brief  acquaintance  to 
find  out  that.  And  Miss  Jewell ;  what  do  you  say  to 
her?" 

"  Oh,  she  and  I  have  been  acquainted  for  some  time, 
you  know.  Her  sister,  Mrs.  Dunbar,  and  her  husband 
are  about  the  closest  friends  I  have  in  Augusta.  They 
wanted  Miss  Jewell  to  live  with  them,  her  parents  being 
both  dead,  and  Dunbar  has  plenty  of  money  besides  a 
good  business.  But  she  said  she  meant  to  maintain 
herself,  and  so  she  accepted  her  cousin's  offer  to  take 


6 J.  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

a  place  in  his  school.  A  girl  full  of  life — good-looking, 
too,  isn't  she? — and  I  don't  know  a  brighter.  She's 
going  to  spend  her  summer  vacation  with  the  Dunbars 
on  the  Sand  Hills.  She  likes  you,  she  says,  first  rate, 
and  says  she  calls  you  '  cousin.'  I  suppose  Miss  Mac 
farlane  can  console  you  for  the  temporary  absence  of 
such  an  interesting  relative,  eh  ? " 

"If  anybody  could,  it  would  be  she,  provided  she'd 
be  kind  enough  to  undertake  it." 

"  I  thought  so.  By  the  way,  I  was  particularly  im 
pressed  by  Mrs.  Guthrie,  young  Mrs.  Guthrie.  The 
elder  is  a  striking  woman  herself,  vast  and  magisterial ; 
but  her  daughter-in-law  struck  me  as  a  woman  filled 
with  the  best  sorts  of  character,  and  I'm  not  sure  but 
that  she  was  as  good  looking  as  any  at  the  party.  I 
was  glad  to  make  her  acquaintance.  The  elder  Jami- 
son did  me  that  service.  Guthrie,  so  it  seemed,  didn't 
care  to  do  it  himself,  at  which  piece  of  neglect,  as  in 
part  he  was  host,  I  was  rather  surprised.  Between  us, 
I'm  inclined  to  suspect  that  Guthrie  forms  his  manners 
more  with  reference  to  women  than  men.  It's  a  mis- 
take to  do  that,  I  think.  A  man  who  is  fair  and  court- 
eous with  other  men  can  get  along  well  enough  when 
he  gets  to  where  women  are.  Of  all  your  bar  he  has 
been  least  cordial  in  extending  welcome  to  me,  and  I 
noticed  that  he  showed  some  fretfulness  whenever  the 
court  made  a  ruling  against  him.  But  with  women, 
particularly  Miss  Jewell,  he's  as  mannerish  as  a  French- 
man. I  had  a  good  time  with  his  wife.  She's  devoted 
to  him ;  I  could  see  that  from  the  way  her  eyes  followed 
him.  She's  a  serious  woman,  I  take  it.  She  smiled 
only  once  while  I  was  talking  with  her,  and,  bless  me, 


CHRISTOPHER  BOND.  65 

how  it  did  light  her  up !  May  be  my  small  talk  wasn't 
of  the  proper  sort.  It's  deuced  inconvenient  to  a  fel- 
low, isn't  it,  not  to  have  at  command  tit  words  for  every- 
body he  meets  in  a  promiscuous  company  ?  Sometimes 
I  almost  envy  such  a  man  as  Guthrie — that  is,  in  that 
particular.  However,  such  as  that  is  only  for  a  mo- 
ment. When  a  fellow  means  well  and  does  the  best 
he  can  he  ought  to  try  to  be  reconciled  to  himself. 
Eh,  Tolly?" 

"  That's  my  hand,  Bond,  the  only  one  I've  got." 

"  I'm  told  Guthrie  is  rich.  He  dresses,  looks,  and 
behaves  like  a  man  that  had  money.  He  has  talent 
enough  to  make  a  capital  lawyer  if  he'd  study  his  cases 
better.  I  suppose  he  practices  mainly  to  keep  himself 
before  the  public." 

"  That's  about  his  case.     Yes,  Guthrie  is  rich  ;  born 
so,  married  a  rich  man's  daughter,  and,  unless  some- 
thing is  done  to  hinder,  is  destined  to  get  all,  or  nearly . 
all,  of  the  estate  left  by  his  father,  to  the  exclusion  of 
his  sister." 

"  Was  she  at  the  party  that  night  ? " 

"  No ;  she  does  not  go  out  now,  and,  even  if  she 
did,  I  hardly  think  she  would  have  been  there  ;  I  know 
her  husband  would  not,  and  I  rather  suspect  that  the 
mother  gave  her  party  at  this  particular  time  because 
of  her  knowing  that  people  would  not  expect  to  meet 
the  rest  of  the  family." 

"  Aye  ?     What's  the  matter  with  the  son-in-law  ? " 

"  Nothing,  except  that  he  had  no  fortune,  and  his 
family  can't  run  back  to  the  very  oldest  bloods  of  Vir- 
ginia, that  is,  not  that  they  know  of.    But  he's  a  prince 
of  a  man  himself.    Yes,  Bond,  between  ourselves,  Guth- 
5 


$Q  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

rie  is  as  selfish  as  a  bull  terrier,  to  whom,  not  inaptly, 
Mr.  Torrance  compared  him  that  night  after  the  party 
while  speaking  of  him  in  another  attitude.  He  can't 
help  being  proud  of  that  wife  of  his,  whom  I  regard, 
if  not  the  very  finest  woman  I  know,  the  equal  of  any. 
But  she's  not  enough  for  him,  and  I'm  inclined  to  sus- 
pect that  already  she  has  been  suffering  somewhat  from 
his  attentions  to  other  women." 

"  Miss  Jewell  tells  me  she  likes  him  very  much.  I 
don't  think  she  understands  him  well.  I  believe  I'll — 
no,  people  know  best  how  to  take  care  of  themselves." 

These  words  were  said  rather  gravely.  He  turned 
away  from  the  subject,  and  said  : 

"  But,  Tolly,  how  is  it  that  Guthrie  is  to  get  the 
lion's  share  of  his  father's  estate?  Did  the  old  man 
leave  it  all  to  him  and  his  mother  ? " 

Tolly  related  what  he  had  heard  and  what  he  had 
been  told  of  the  Guthrie  history,  and  then  said  : 

"  Bond,  would  you  regard  as  entirely  on  the  line  of 
professional  duty  to  give  information  to  a  man  who  had 
not  made  himself  a  client  touching  rights  which,  if  not 
for  his  own,  for  his  family's  sake,  he  ought  to  enforce  ? " 

"  If  the  man  was  a  friend,  I  should  say,  emphati- 
cally, yes.  Even  if  he  were  not,  I  should  rather  regard 
it  as  a  lawyer's  duty  to  see  that  such  information  got  to 
him  in  some  way." 

"  He  is  a  friend,  and  a  dear  one.  He  is  the  hus- 
band of  Guthrie's  sister." 

"  Then  I  should  not  hesitate." 

"  He  already  knows  the  facts  as  well  as  I  do,  but,  of 
of  course,  not  all  the  legal  principles  on  which  redress 
might  depend.     The  difficulty  is  that  he's  rather  indif- 


A  PICNIC.  67 

ferent,  and  both  he  and  his  wife  are  averse  to  bring- 
ing family  matters  before  the  public.  Lately,  a  friend 
whom  he  loves  very  much  came  to  see  me  about  the 
case,  and  since  then  has  been  plying  him  more  earnestly 
to  do  something.  If  a  suit  is  to  be  instituted,  I've  no 
doubt  it  will  be  represented  by  me.  In  that  event,  if 
you  say  so,  I  will  join  you  with  me." 

"Thanky;  you're  as  good  as  you  can  be,  Tolly. 
But,  my  dear  fellow,  how  would  that  affect  the  Macfar- 
lane  business  ? " 

"  Oh,  every  case  must  depend  upon  itself." 

The  next  morning  Bond  left,  making  a  brief  part- 
ing call  on  Miss  Jewell  on  his  way. 

"  You'll  be  coming  back  again  before  long,  you  say, 
Mr.  Bond?" 

"  Most  probably.  Tolly  has  a  good  case  in  prospect 
and  wants  me  to  join  him.  He's  a  cousin  of  yours,  he 
also  tells  me." 

"Oh,  but  isn't  he?  Well,  by-by.  My  dear  love 
to  sister  and  Mr.  Dunbar." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A   PICNIC. 

On  a  Saturday  early  in  May  there  was  a  picnic  in 
Mrs.  Guthrie's  woods  adjoining  her  residence  on  the 
east  and  south.  This  was  an  institution  of  Miss  Jewell, 
nothing  but  fishing,  chincapin-hunting,  and  like  parties 
among  the  young  of  both  sexes  being  known  thereto- 


68  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

fore.  In  these  woods  of  a  hundred  acres  and  more  was 
abundant  growth  of  oak,  hickory,  poplar,  intermixed 
with  dogwood,  maple,  crab  apple,  etc.  Here  among 
people  were  fond  of  strolling,  and  they  did  so  without 
remonstrance  from  the  owner,  except  in  the  case  of 
boys  with  shot-guns,  whom,  if  she  could  not  always 
turn  away,  she  reminded  in  threatening  words  of  the 
law  ;  and  so  a  few  gray  and  flying  squirrels  and  a  good- 
ly number  of  birds  not  lit  for  the  frying-pan  nor  the 
griddle  had  their  habitations  there.  Through  Guthrie 
permission  to  hold  the  festival  was  obtained.  It  was  a 
most  fair  day.  Boys  had  gone  early  among  the  deeper 
woods  beyond  to  gather  yellow  jessamines,  bubby  blos- 
soms, and  other  wild  things,  and  had  them  ready  to  dis- 
tribute among  the  girls  and  young  women  to  weave  and 
to  wear  in  nosegays  and  garlands.  Baskets  with  good 
things  were  sent  by  every  family,  and,  although  this 
had  not  been  foreseen,  a  floor  of  unplaned  boards  had 
been  laid  on  a  level  not  far  from  the  spring  branch, 
where  Andy  Nicol,  a  well-known  fiddler,  early  in  the 
afternoon  made  his  appearance. 

"  I  didn't  expect  this,  Mr.  Guthrie,"  said  Miss  Jew- 
ell.    "Will  it  be  all  right?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  mentioned  to  several  that  I  was  going 
to  get  up  a  little  dance,  and  nobody  said  anything 
against  it." 

Whether  so  appointed  or  not,  he  made  himself 
leader  in  sports  and  exercises.  These,  besides  dancing, 
were  walks  beneath  the  trees  on  the  rising  grounds  and 
along  the  bank  of  the  little  stream  in  the  bottom,  games 
among  the  younger  lads  and  girls,  and  occasional  duets 
and  singings  in  chorus.     Alice  was  there  and  looked 


A  TTCNIC.  CO 

cheerful,  showing  or  trying  to  show  that  she  took  pleas- 
ure in  everything. 

"There,  Mrs.  Guthrie,"  Miss  Jewell  said  about 
noon,  "  is  the  best  I  can  do  in  return  for  the  sweet  flow- 
ers you  gave  me  the  evening  I  was  at  your  house." 
Then  she  handed  her  a  wreath  which  she  had  woven  of 
jessamines. 

" Beautiful ! "  said  Alice,  "and  I  thank  you  cor- 
dially." 

They  could  not  prevail  upon  her  to  dance.  She  said 
that  Charlotte  and  Miss  Jewell  must  alternately  take  her 
place.  Yet  she  looked  on  with  interest  and  smiled  at 
an  occasional  awkward  figure  made  by  one  of  the  men. 
Tolly  was  not  a  practiced  dancer,  but  he  knew  the  fig- 
ures and  acquitted  himself  to  the  apparent  satisfaction 
of  his  partners.  Guthrie  looked  as  if  he  felt  that  he  was 
throwing  away  his  agility  on  an  arena  so  small.  Yet  he 
took  out  Miss  Jewell  as  often  as  he  could,  and  it  was 
very  interesting  to  note  their  perfect  harmony  of  move- 
ment. She  smiled  at  his  whisperings,  and  occasionally, 
when  she  came  within  view  of  Alice,  nodded  to  her. 

Toward  evening  Peterson  Braddy  appeared,  having 
come  on  Tolly's  invitation.  He  would  not  have  put 
foot  there  if  he  had  known  that  Guthrie  had  had  any- 
thing to  do  in  getting  up  the  party.  Fond  of  dancing, 
yet  he  did  not  indulge  until  bantered  by  several  of  the 
younger  girls.  Always  avowing  the  wish  to  marry,  but 
known  among  his  friends  to  have  no  sort  of  notion  of 
the  kind,  on  such  occasions  he  was  a  beau  devoted  to 
any  belle  near  whom  he  happened  to  be.  Tolly  made 
him  acquainted  with  Miss  Jewell,  and  she  professed  to 
be  delighted  with  the  gallant  things  he  said  to  her.     He 


70  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

had  no  doubt  that  if  he  were  to  try,  he  could  foot  it 
equal  to  Guthrie  or  any  other  man  that  ever  stepped 
into  a  ball-room  ;  but  he  seemed  to  feel  that  this  was  no 
occasion  for  the  exercise  of  his  best  endeavors.  The 
tips  of  his  little  partners'  lingers  he  took  between  his 
thumb  and  forefinger,  smiled  in  condescension  to  their 
level  for  their  entertainment,  and  he  just  knew  that  it 
was  inimitable  when,  instead  of  turning  one  of  them  at 
the  word,  he  twirled  her  round  like  a  top. 

"  Just  look  at  old  Pete  Braddy ! "  said  Guthrie  to 
Miss  Jewell ;  "  did  anybody  ever  see  such  an  awkward 
conceited  old  fool  ? " 

They  were  seated  upon  the  roots  of  a  large  white 
oak.  Guthrie's  back  was  toward  his  wife.  He  had 
been,  with  much  apparent  earnestness,  saying  several 
things  which  Miss  Jewell,  intent  upon  the  cotillon  did 
not  seem  to  be  hearing,  and  she  was  not  aware  that 
Alice  was  looking  intently  at  both.  At  the  last  words 
of  Guthrie  she  turned  her  face  to  him  and  said : 

"Don't  you  speak  in  such  terms  of  Mr.  Braddy. 
He's  a  dear  friend  of  Cousin  Tom  Tolly." 

"Your  Cousin  Tom  Tolly?" 

"Yes,  didn't  you  know  I  had  taken  him  for  my 
cousin  ? " 

"  No,  indeed  ;  but  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  because—" 

"  Because  what  ? " 

He  bent  closer  toward  her  and  whispered  a  few 
words. 

«  Do  you—" 

Leaving  the  question  unasked,  reddening  to  her  tem- 
ples, she  looked  at  Alice  and  noticed  that  the  latter's 
eyes  were  intently  fixed  upon  her.     She  rose  and  com- 


A  PICXIC.  71 

menced  to  advance  toward  her.  Alice,  who  had  been 
talking  with  Alfred  Jamison,  rising,  said : 

"  I  feel  chilly.  A\  ill  you  see  me  to  my  carriage,  Mr. 
Jamison,  as  I  don't  like  to  interrupt  Mr.  Guthrie  \ " 

Leaving  upon  the  bench  the  wreath  that  Miss  Jewell 
had  given  her,  she  took  Alfred's  arm  and  walked  away. 
A  moment  after,  Guthrie,  suddenly  become  pale,  hur- 
ried after,  reaching  her  as  she  was  entering  the  carriage. 

"  Why,  Alice,  my  dear  child,  what  is  the  matter  \ 
Thank  you,  Alfred.  Drive  on  home  Marcus,"  he 
said  to  the  coachman  as  he  entered  and  took  the  seat  by 
her.  Miss  Jewell  looked  for  a  few  seconds  in  that  di- 
rection, then  turned.  Tolly  had  been  called  away  by  a 
client  a  few  minutes  before.  Calling  to  Peterson 
Braddy,  she  said  aloud : 

"  Mr.  Braddy,  you  haven't  asked  me  to  dance  a 
single  set.  I'm  surprised  at  you.  Mr.  Tolly  told  me 
you  were  one  of  the  gallantest  of  mankind." 

"  Madam  !  Why,  by  the — why,  madam,  it  was  be- 
cause I  thought  you  wouldn't  want  to  dance  with  an  old 
rusty  country  blade  like  me.  "Will  you  be  my  partner 
for  the  next  quitilion,  madam  % " 

"No,  thank  you,  I'm  tired.  Girls,  I  think  we'll 
break  up  now.     Get  up  your  things." 

While  they  were  busy  with  this  order,  she  said  to 
him  playfully,  although  her  face  and  the  tremble  of 
her  words  indicated  excitement : 

"  Mr.  Braddy,  I  wish  I  was  a  man,  and  could  be  as 
brave  as  you  are.  Would  you  fight  for  me  if  I  were  to 
need  it  and  ask  you  ? " 

"Madam,  by  blood  and  the  eternal — which  is  the 
biggest  oath  I  ever  swears  by — I  would." 


72  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  Right  or  wrong;  ? " 

"  Eight  or  wrong." 

Tlien  she  laughed  again,  almost  hysterically.  After 
a  moment  of  uncertain  pause,  she  said  : 

"  Oh,  I  was  joking,  Mr.  Braddy.  You  are  not  to  re- 
peat a  word  of  what  I  said  to  you,  not  even,  and  espe- 
cially not  to  our  friend  Mr.  Tolly  ;  hear  ? " 

"  I  hear,  madam,  and  to  hear  is  to  obey.  May  my 
tongue  cleave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth — " 

"  Oh,  that  is  more  than  enough,"  and  having  seen 
that  her  girls  were  all  ready,  she  bade  him  good-by  and 
went  her  way. 

When  Duncan  entered  the  carriage  he  felt  a  trepi- 
dation greater  than  any  in  his  whole  experience,  and  he 
never  had  had  more  pressing  use  of  all  of  his  gifts. 

"  My  dearest  Alice,  what  in  this  world  is  the  matter  ? " 

"  I  am  sick,"  she  answered  coldly. 

"Sick?     From  what?" 

"  Sick  at  heart,  from  the  sight  of  perfidy  !  " 

"  I  knew  it  as  soon  as  I  saw  you  moving  toward  the 
carriage.  I  am  glad  to  know  that  it  is  only  that,  and 
that  I  can  relieve  you  in  half  a  dozen  words."  Then 
he  laughed  a  laugh  as  artful  as  it  was  audacious. 

She  looked  at  him  mournfully  and  compassionately. 

"  Alice  "  he  said,  withdrawing  himself  a  little  apart 
as  if  there  were  things  owed  to  himself  as  well  as  to  her, 
"  I  determined,  for  my  own  sake  as  well  as  yours,  but 
particularly  for  Miss  Jewell's,  that  I  would  this  day  test 
the  character  of  the  feeling  ^he  had  for  me.  I  have 
done  so,  and  I  have  just  now  found  that  it  is  different 
from  what  I  had  supposed.  So  different  that  I  have 
determined  to  withdraw  from  her  society  altogether." 


A  PICNIC.  73 

It  is  not  strange  that  the  innocent  are  credulous  to 
the  denials  of  those  whom  they  love.  She  turned  and 
looked  into  his  eyes  that,  clear  as  the  cloudless  heavens, 
let  themselves  be  searched.  A  moment  more  and  she  was 
sobbino-  upon  his  breast,  while  he  laughed  the  laugh  of 
a  physician  who  instantaneously  had  remedied  what 
seemed  a  fatal  malady. 

"  O  Duncan  Duncan ! "  she  said,  when  she  could 
lift  her  head  "  forgive  me  for  a  weakness  which  the 
love  I  have  for  you  has  made  so  uncontrollable.  If  I 
could  believe  that  Miss  Jewell  was  a  woman  with  inordi- 
nate feeling  for  men,  because  they  are  men,  and  that  you 
had  been  tempted  by  the  knowledge  of  it  and  the  sight 
of  it,  I  think  I  could  have  borne.  I  know  I  would 
have  tried  to  ignore  what  sometimes  comes  almost 
irresistibly  in  the  wray  of  a  man  who  in  other  respects 
may  be  all  that  a  wife  would  have  him  to  be.  God 
knows  that  that  is  hard  enough.  Or,  if  I  believed  that 
the  poor  woman's  affections  had  become  inevitably  en- 
tangled, a  thing  I  could  understand,  knowing  you  as  I 
do,  I  could  compassionate  her  as  a  sufferer  for  what 
surely  is  the  keenest,  because  most  irremediable  and 
most  humiliating  of  griefs.  But,  Duncan,  to  me  Miss 
Jewell  to-day  did  not  look  like  a  bad  or  even  a  weak 
person.  That  is,  never  until  just  now,  when  she  rose 
from  the  foot  of  that  tree  and  looked  at  me  and  began 
to  approach.  Then  some  powerful  passion  seemed 
raging  in  her  breast.  It  looked  as  if  it  was  fright  at 
being  detected,  and  I  decided  to  retreat  from  her.  I 
can  now  understand  that  expression  from  what  you  tell 
me,  which,  my  husband — "  then  she  looked  him  again  in 
the  eyes — "  I  believe  because  you  tell  me  of  it.     Char- 


74:  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

lotte  Macfarlane  lias  talked  with  me  much  about  Miss 
Jewell,  and  Charlotte  has  said  often  that,  though  an  im- 
pulsive woman,  she  believes  her  to  be  as  innocent  as 
any.  Would  you  know,  then,  what  has  been  with  me 
the  source  of  the  most  painful  feelings  I  have  had  about 
her?     Not  jealousy,  Duncan!  " 

She  paused  a  moment  and  uttered  a  low  laugh  in 
the  mild  scorn  that  the  utterance  of  the  poor  word  had 
raised  in  her  heart.  "  ]S"o,  I  could  no  more  indulge 
that  feeling  than  I  could  have  distrust  in  the  Creator ! 
If  I  were  to  feel  that  I  had  not  the  entire  confidence  of 
you  to  whom  I  have  given  myself  and  all  of  mine,  I 
should  conclude  that  you  had  nothing  to  give  back  or 
that  I  was  not  worth  the  giving.  But  I  never  should 
go  out  of  my  own  experience  to  invent  or  to  imagine  any 
other  cause,  and  I  would  try  to  live,  until  the  time  came 
for  me  to  die,  upon  whatever  nourishment  could  be 
got  from  my  own  poor  resources.  I  hope  you  under- 
stand me,  Duncan,  and  that  you  mark  well  what  in 
my  thoughts  of  this  woman  has  given  me  most  anxiety. 
It  is,  or  it  was  the  apprehension  that,  seeing  her  so 
fair  to  look  upon,  so  gifted  with  all  goodly  gifts,  you, 
attractive  like  her,  instead  of  avoiding  the  temptings 
which  you  led  her  to  extend — if  she  did  extend  them, 
and  the  good  God  knows  that  /  don't  accuse  her — 
you  were  meeting  them,  forgetful,  not  so  much  of 
what  was  due  to  me,  as  of  what  was  due  from  every 
man  to  young  womanhood,  especially  when  separated 
from  its  natural  protectors.  s  My  action  at  the  "Wendell 
party  was  mainly  to  warn  her,  and  some  of  it  this  after- 
noon was  to  make  that  warning  so  pronounced  that 
repetition  of  her  imprudence  would  seem  to  herself 


A  NEW-COMER  ON  LITTLE  RIVER.  75 

impossible  without  disgrace.  I  was  acting  less  in  my 
own  behalf,  much  as  1  felt  that  I  needed  some  defense, 
than  for  her  safety — and  my  husband's  honor." 

"  No,  my  dear  Alice,"  he  said,  with  a  show  of  mild- 
ness which  the  simplest  innocence  could  not  have  im- 
proved, "  I  was  pleased  with  the  woman's  society,  as 
any  man  of  taste  must  be,  and  I  confess  that  I  had  not 
enough  objection  to  meeting  her  half-way  in  a  little 
flirtation  that  would  do  no  harm  to  me  certainly,  nor,  as 
I  could  see,  to  her.  When  I  found  I  was  mistaken, 
and  that  her  interest  in  me  was  of  a  kind  dangerous  to 
her  reputation,  I  decided  to  do  as  I  have  told  you." 

She  believed  what  he  said,  for  she  was  one  who,  as 
she  must  give  all  or  none,  must  accept  or  reject  all. 
She  sighed  ;  but  neither  she  nor  her  husband  believed 
it  to  be  a  sigh  of  distrust.  Yet  each  felt  that  as  much 
had  been  put  upon  her  as  she  could  endure. 


CHAPTEK  IX. 

A   NEW-COMER   ON    LITTLE   EIVEK. 

The  next  morning  John  Stapleton  rode  into  the 
village,  and  going  into  Tolly's  office,  after  the  usual 
salutations,  reported,  in  the  tone  of  one  telling  of  mod- 
erately interesting  news,  that  a  daughter  had  been  born 
at  his  house  three  days  before,  and  that  he  had  come  to 
town  mainly  to  report  to  the  doctor  the  condition  of 
mother  and  child,  which,  he  was  glad  to  say,  was  as 
fair  as  could  be  desired.     He  was  a  good  specimen  of 


Y6  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

manly  strength  and  beauty.  Over  six  feet  in  height, 
straight,  muscular,  with  complexion  somewhat  this  side 
of  fair,  easy,  unstudied  in  manners,  modest  but  satis- 
tied  looking,  he  was  one  to  be  noted  in  any  crowd  of 
men. 

"  Ah  ha  !  congratulate  you.  That  sets  you  two, 
Jack,  eh?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  a  brace :  doing  pretty  well  for  a  little 
over  three  years,  isn't  it,  Tom  %  " 

"  It  is,  indeed.  I  like  to  hear  of.  that  sort  of  stock 
multiplying.  The  way  you've  started  out,  you'll  have 
to  stir  your  stumps  to  raise  and  educate  and  settle 
aright." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  but  there's  plenty  of  time.  I  called  in  to 
tell  you  that  Caroline  wants  Alice  to  know  about  it.  I 
didn't  see  Duncan  on  the  street,  and  I  don't  care  about 
going  to  his  office  just  for  that.  Won't  you  try  to  see 
the  fellow  some  time  to-day  and  let  him  know  %  And 
if  you  can't,  get  the  interesting  news  to  Alice  in  some 
way  %     That's  a  good  boy." 

"  Certainly,  Jack,  I  shall  be  delighted,  proud  indeed 
■  to  hand  about  generally,  and  specially  to  Mrs.  Duncan 
Guthrie,  information  so  important.  Aren't  you  going 
to  send  word  to  the  old  lady  Guthrie .?  " 

"  I  think  not ;  she'll  hear  of  it  in  satisfactory  time,  I 
guess.  She  doesn't  have  a  great  fancy  for  my  stock, 
you  know,  and  Duncan  thinks  he  must  follow  her  suit, 
although  he  has  sense  to  not  bother  with  me.  Alice, 
bless  her  heart,  is  made  out  of  pure  gold.  By  the 
way,  Tom,  I  hear  some  talk  about  Duncan  and  that 
Miss  Jewell.  Peter  says  that  people  tell  him  Duncan 
on  the  street  is  everlastingly  talking  about  what  a  mag- 


A  NEW-COMER  ON  LITTLE  RIVER.  77 

nificent  piece  of  furniture  she  is — that's  the  way  Fete 
puts  it ;  and  he  says  that  they  say  he  pays  her  more 
attention  than  looks  well  in  a  married  man." 

"  Oh,  you  know  how  some  people  will  talk,  Jack. 
Guthrie  may  have  been  a  little  too  pointed,  as  you 
know  he  is  generally  with  fine-looking  women ;  but  it 
amounts  to  little." 

"  Well,  it's  no  business  of  mine.  I  must  go.  Thanky, 
Tom.     Good-by." 

He  went  out,  and  as  he  was  remounting  his  horse, 
"  Hello,  Jack  ! "  called  Guthrie,  who  was  standing  on 
a  sidewalk  some  rods  away. 

"  Hello  !  "  he  answered  and  rode  away. 

The  sim  had  just  set.  Alice  was  in  her  flower  gar- 
den that  lay  aside  from  the  great  oaks  in  front  of  the 
mansion.  She  was  clad  in  a  light-muslin  gown,  whose 
loose  flowing  sleeves  were  folded  back  upon  her  fore- 
arms to  allow  facile  use  of  the  pot  with  which  she  was 
watering.  Upon  her  face  there  was,  perhaps,  some 
deeper  shade  of  habitual  seriousness,  but  this  was  lift- 
ing as  she  moved  among  her  flowers.  Occasionally  she 
lingered  before  a  bush  and,  plucking  one  of  its  blossoms, 
looked  at  it  affectionately  for  a  while,  then  putting  it  to 
her  nostrils,  closed  her  eyes.  These  and  her  piano  had 
become  companions  more  dear  than  during  the  period 
of  maidenhood.  The  greater  the  disappointment  in 
failing  to  hold  as  fast  as  she  had  expected  the  one  great 
love  of  her  being  the  more  fondly  she  allied  herself  to 
these.  To  a  woman  of  virtue,  sensibility,  and  culture, 
these  are  resources  of  priceless  value.  Alas  for  the 
wife  who,  when  she  can  not,  or  when  she  believes  that 
she  can  not  hold  her  husband  to  the  marital  obligations 


78  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

that  are  her  dearest,  has  not  learned  to  love  music  and 
flowers  !  Even  if  she  have  consolations  of  assured  re- 
ligious faith,  there  come  seasons  of  dryness  in  the  life 
of  even  the  most  devout,  which  next  to  prayer,  wrest- 
ling prayer,  there  is  nothing  like  music  and  flowers  to 
comfort.  Indeed,  a  sensitive,  devout  soul  that  suffers 
feels  that  these  are  the  most  fit  accompaniments  to  the 
beseechings  of  an  overflowing  heart.  When  I  was-  a 
little  child,  the  sweet  smells  and  the  singing  on  Sun- 
days in  our  country  meeting-house  were  felt  by  me  to 
be  as  religious  and  worshipful  as  anything  that  came 
down  from  the  lofty  pulpit. 

Alice  looked  so  beautiful  and  pure  that  her  husband 
on  approaching,  stopped  and  watched  her  as  she  stood 
in  one  of  the  walks  contemplating  a  white  rose  that  she 
had  just  plucked ;  she  kissed  it  several  times,  then 
placing  a  hand  upon  her  eyes,  stood  there  for  several 
moments.  Guthrie  waited  for  her  to  move;  then 
advancing,  he  called  out: 

"  Good  evening  !  I  was  just  thinking  how  uncom- 
monly pretty  and  sweet  you  are  looking,  Alice." 

Startled  somewhat,  yet  she  smiled,  and  when  he 
came  up  and  took  her  in  his  arms,  she  looked  up  into 
his  face,  and  he  understood  some,  not  all,  of  the  longing 
that  was  in  her  heart.  She  was  in  that  state  wherein, 
along  with  confidence  again  restored  after  another  vio- 
lent assault,  is  a  drop  of  indefinable  apprehension.  It 
is  more  hazardous  than  some  suspect  to  trifle  with  the 
love  and  trustfulness  of  the  meek.  I  have  often 
thought  of  those  words  in  Kevelations  about  hiding 
from  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb.  Punishment  from  such 
a  source,  when  it  comes  at  last,  after  long  trials  and 


A  NEW-COMER  ON   LITTLE  RIVER.  79 

numberless  entreaties  to  beware  of  its  coming,  seems 
more  terrific  than  the  swift  sword  of  vengeance.  It  is 
terrible  when  the  face  of  the  injured  is  turned  away 
and  the  injurer  is  left  to  himself. 

lie  had  been  home  for  an  hour.  They  were  chat- 
ting on  the  piazza  when  he  said : 

"  O  Alice !  I  forgot  a  bit  of  news  I  have  for  you. 
You  looked  so  lovely  there  in  the  garden  that  you  put 
it  out  of  my  mind  when  it  was  on  my  tongue  to  tell 
you.     Caroline  has  a  girl  baby  !  " 

"  Is  that  so  % "  she  answered  quickly.  "  I  didn't  know 
they  were  expecting  it  quite  so  soon.  How  is  she  ? 
When  was  the  child  born  %     How  did  you  hear  it  ?  " 

"  Tolly  told  me,  and  he  said  that  Stapleton  informed 
him  of  it.  I  saw  Jack  as  he  was  about  to  mount  his 
horse  to  return.  We  merely  exchanged  salutations,  as 
he  appeared  to  be  in  a  hurry." 

"  And  he  said  nothing  to  you  about  it,  dear? " 

"  No ;  but  Tolly  said  that  Jack  asked  him  to  send 
the  news  to  you." 

"  Does  mother  know  it  ? " 

"  I  can't  say.  I  guess  not,  though,  as  Jack  never 
goes  there,  yon  know.  No,  I  don't  think  mother  can 
have  heard  it." 

"  When  was  the  child  born,  did  you  say  % " 

"  Three  days  ago,  Tolly  said." 

"  Three  days  ago !  I  wonder  Caroline  didn't  send 
word  sooner.  I  told  her  that  I  would  go  clown  when  it 
happened  for  a  day  or  so.  If  you're  willing,  I'll  drive 
down  there  to-morrow  and  spend  the  night." 

"  Why,  of  course,  my  dear,  though  I  shall  be  very 
lonesome  without  you.    However,  I  can  spend  the  even- 


80  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

ing  with  mother,  unless  she  goes  with  you,  which  I  hard- 
ly expect  she'll  do." 

The  next  morning,  soon  after  breakfast,  Alice  took 
the  carriage  and  drove  first  to  Mrs.  Guthrie's.  The  lat- 
ter, always  professing  to  be  glad  to  see  her,  exclaimed  : 

"  Why,  good  morning,  my  child.  I  see  you  came  in 
the  carriage ;  don't  you  feel  quite  well  ?  You  haven't 
been  looking  quite  as  bright  as  I  want  to  see  you." 

"  I'm  as  well  as  usual,  mother.  How  are  you  ? 
You  always  look  well." 

"  Do  I  ?  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  Isn't  it  a 
pity  that  people,  especially  those  who  have  a  plenty  to 
live  on  and  enjoy  themselves,  and  help  others  to  do  the 
same — when  they  deserve  it — that  they  have  to  get  old, 
and  can't  get  as  much  sleep  of  nights  as  they'd  like,  and 
have  to  be  troubled  thinking  how  short  life  is  and  other 
things  that  they  didn't  use  to  bother  their  minds  about  ? 
You  Judy,  come  here  and  get  your  Miss  Alice's  bonnet." 

"  Howdye,  Judy,"  Alice  said  to  the  negro  girl  who 
had  come  in.  "  No,  mother,  I'm  on  my  way  to  Sister 
Caroline's.     Did  you  know  she  had  another  baby  ? " 

"No,  I  didn't,"  was  the  cold  answer.  "I  didn't 
know  it  had  come.  When  was  it,  and  how  did  you 
hear  it  ? " 

"Mr.  Stapleton  was  in  town  yesterday,  and  sent 
word  that  it  was  born  three  days  before." 

"  Whom  did  he  send  word  by  ? " 

"Mr.  Tolly  told  Duncan  that  he  had  been  so  re- 
quested by  him.  I  believe  he  came  merely  to  report  to 
Dr.  Poythress,  and  returned  almost  immediately." 

"More  expense.  Dr.  Poythress  is  the  highest 
charging  doctor  in  town,  and  that's  one  reason  that  he 


A  NEW-COMER  ON   LITTLE  RIVER.  81 

has  the  biggest  practice  of  them  all.  It's  just  the  way 
people  are  about  lawyers  and  doctors — the  higher  they 
charge  the  more  people  think  they're  worth.  In  my 
time  women  never  thought  of  sending  for  doctors  at 
such  times,  rich  or  poor.  But  Caroline  always  was 
proud,  except  when  she  came  to  get  married,  which,  of 
all  times  to  he  proud,  is  the  main  one.  How  did  he  say 
they  both  were  ? " 

"  Very  well,  very  well,  indeed." 

"  No,  child,  I  hadn't  heard  a  word  of  it,  though,  of 
course,  I'm  not  surprised.  I  never  asked  Caroline  any- 
thing about  it,  and  she  never  opened  her  mouth  to  me. 
Poor  child !  she  knew  that  the  prospect  of  adding  an- 
other to  John  Stapleton's  stock  wouldn't  be  such  an 
interesting  piece  of  news  as  to  make  me  get  up  and  go 
to  dancing  around  out  of  pure  joy." 

"You  don't  feel  like  going  with  me,  mother?" 
asked  Alice,  suppressing  as  well  as  she  could  the  pain 
she  felt  at  these  words. 

*'  Well,  no,  my  dear,  not  to-day.  I'm  not  right  well, 
though  you  tell  me  I  look  it,  and  am  glad  to  hear  it. 
And  then  I've  got  a  heap  of  business  to  lay  oif  and  see 
that  it's  attended  to.  You  know  how  negroes  are  when 
you  ain't  right  behind  'em  all  the  time.  If  Caroline 
was  real  sick,  I'd  go  to  her,  of  course.  She  knows  that ; 
and  she  knows  that  no  matter  how  little  respect  she's 
always  had  for  my  wishes  yet  I  can't  but  have  the  feel- 
ings of  a  mother,  as  I  suppose  there's  few  women  that 
have  children  that  don't." 

"Why,  my  dear  mother,"  Alice  ventured  to  say, 
"  Sister  Caroline,  I  am  sure,  both  respects  and  loves 
you  very  much,  and  would  do  whatever  she  could  for 


82  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

your  happiness  that  she  would  believe  consistent  with 
her  other  duties." 

"  I  know  Caroline  Stapleton,  Alice,"  the  red  upon 
her  face  growing  a  trine  more  fiery.  "  I  know  her 
better  than  you  do  or  anybody  else  does.  From  a 
child  she  was  of  the  kind  that  she  is  now — that  she 
always  would  have  her  own  opinions.  I  never  was 
able  to  give  her  one  single  jostle  about  that  John  Staple- 
ton,  that  he  wasn't  worth  two  thousand  dollars  to  his 
name  ;  and  he  acted  like  he  didn't  care  whether  he  was 
worth  even  that  much  or  not,  except  to  dress  as  well — 
mighty  nigh  as  well  as  Duncan  Guthrie — and  keep  his 
dogs  and  hounds.  And  Caroline,  marry  him  she  would, 
•spite  of  my  telling  her  if  she  did  the  back  of  my  hand 
to  them  both  as  to  any  property  they'd  get  from  me, 
though  I  let  myself  be  overpersuaded  by  Dennis  Mac- 
farlane  to  let  them  have  a  family  of  negroes  ;  and  when 
their  oldest  child  was  born,  and  they  named  it  after 
Mr.  Guthrie,  although  that  made  me  mad,  still  I  offered 
to  make  over  to  Caroline  another  bunch  of  negroes  and 
some  money  to  add  to  their  land.  You  think  she'd 
take  any  of  it  ?  Why,  she  told  me  to  my  face  that  she 
didn't  want  any  property  that  didn't  belong  to  her  hus- 
band. Dennis  Macfarlane  had  to  say  that  she  was  right ; 
but  it  was  none  of  his  business,  and  I  hinted  so  to  him ; 
and  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I'd  keep  down  my  feel- 
ings, and  I'd  be  firm  with  Caroline  Stapleton.  But, 
law  me  !  I  despise  to  have  to  talk  about  such  a  disagree- 
able subject.  You  haven't  4;old  me,  Alice,  if  it  was  a 
boy  or  girl." 

"  It  is  a  girl,  mother." 

"  A  girl !  worse  and  worse !     I  was  in  hopes  that 


A  NEW-COMER  ON  LITTLE  RIVER.  83 

it  was  going  to  be  a  boy,  and  till  you  said  to  the 
contrary  I've  been  supposing,  if  I  supposed  anything 
about  it,  that  it  was  a  boy.  Boys  can  stand  roughings 
and  poor  living,  and  blaze  their  way  through.  That's 
what  boys  can  do ;  but  girls  are  delicate,  if  they  can 
only  be  kept  so,  and —  You're  coming  back  to-night, 
Alice,  I  suppose,  of  course." 

"  I  rather  think  not,  mother.  Caroline  may  need 
me  for  some  little  service.  Indeed,  I'd  like,  and  I  think 
I  ought,  to  spend  two  days  and  a  night  with  her.  Dun- 
can says  I  may." 

"  Well,  do  it,  then.  Just  like  Duncan.  "When  you 
come  back  you  can  fetch  word  how  everything  is.  You 
may  tell  Caroline  that,  as  she  told  me  nothing  about  it, 
it  was  obliged  to  come  on  me  unexpected,  and  specially 
a  girl —  No,  don't  tell  her  quite  that ;  because  I  was 
not  taken  entirely  by  surprise,  and  I  might  have  known 
it  was  going  to  be  a  girl,  just  from  her  bad  luck  ever 
since  she  married  that  man.  But  if  she  needs  any 
thing  that  she  knows  she  ought  to  have,  and  hasn't  got 
it,  and  no  way  to  get  it,  why,  of  course —  Oh,  the  feel- 
ings, the  feelings  that  a  mother  may  feel  like  she  ought 
to  try  to  get  out  of  her  breast  when  she's  badly  treated 
and  can't!  You  haven't  had  those  feelings,  Alice, 
and—" 

"  I  think  I'll  go  on,  mother,  as  the  morning  is  al- 
ready quite  advanced,  and  Sister  Caroline  will  want  a 
good  dinner  set  for  me,  I've  no  doubt." 

"  Yes,  yes,  oh,  yes,"  she  said  rising.  "  But  just  one 
thing  more.  Did  you  hear  anything  about  what  they  were 
talking  about  naming  it  ?  Though  of  course  I  don't  sup- 
pose you  did.    One  thing  is  certain.    I  want  none  of  John 


8i  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

Stapleton's  stock  to  bear  my  name.  Well,  good-by,  my 
child  ;  there's  a  plenty  of  trouble  in  this  world  any  way 
you  take  it ;  but  it  seems  to  me,  at  my  age,  some  things 
are  harder  than  /  ought  to  be  made  to  suffer,  trying  as 
I  always  have  tried  to  do  my  duty.  Duncan  will  come 
and  spend  the  evening  with  me,  of  course  ? " 

"  He  said  he  would  do  so,  mother." 

"I  knew  he  would.  O  Alice,  you've  got  the  ex- 
ception of  a  husband,  that  was  first  good  to  his  mother, 
like  he  always  has  been  from  a  child.  Good-by.  Make 
Marcus  drive  careful  over  those  awful  roads." 


CHAPTER  X. 

ALICE   VISITS   THE   STAPLETONS. 

The  way  to  Stapleton's,  though  subject  to  some  com- 
plaint, was  not  as  rough  and  perilous  as,  from  Mrs. 
Guthrie's  words,  one  might  apprehend.  It  was  not  level 
and  smooth  as  that  over  which  she  traveled  at  least 
once  a  week  to  her  large  plantation  some  miles  west  of 
the  village,  yet  intent  sufficiently  attractive,  as  a  visit 
to  a  daughter  with  a  husband  less  objectionable  than 
John  Stapleton  would  have  been,  ought  to  have  made 
her  feel  reasonably  secure  whenever  she  felt  like  mak- 
ing the  journey.  Less  than  a  third  of  the  forests  had 
been  cut  away,  but  owing  to  the  noted  fecundity  of  the 
soil  and  the  healthf  ulness  of  the  climate,  they  were  begin- 
ning to  disappear  fast  before  the  extending  acquisitions 
of  the  older  settlers  and  the  frequent  incoming  of  new. 


ALICE  VISITS  TIIE  STAPLETONS.  85 

Even  upon  the  sides  and  very  summits  of  the  hills, 
■wherever  inclosed  by  fences,  the  reed-cane  grew  out  of 
the  blood-red  ground  not  very  far  below  the  height 
reached  in  the  rich  alluvium  in  the  bottoms  between. 
Dense  woods,  fairer  to  see  and  sweeter  to  be  among 
than  could  well  be  found  in  any  other  region,  lay  all 
along.  Amid  many  other  kinds  of  growth,  large  and 
small,  Mature  had  produced  just  enough  of  short  leaf 
pine  for  supplying  its  own  peculiar  needs  in  building 
and  kindling.  To  another  person  than  Alice  Guthrie 
the  fast  growing  cotton  and  corn  and  oats  and  the  yel- 
lowing wheat  might  have  been  most  interesting.  But 
she  loved  better  the  continuous  sweet  sounds  and  smells 
that  came  forth  from  the  deep  shades  on  the  other  side 
of  the  road  she  was  traveling.  Occasionally  she  bade 
Marcus,  her  black,  sleek  coachman,  to  let  the  horses 
slacken  to  a  walk  that  she  might  linger  a  little  while 
with  some  unwonted  delicious  thing  that  seemed  as  if  it 
had  come  out  of  its  thicket  to  gladden  her  senses  and 
comfort  her  spirit. 

On  a  high  level,  half  a  mile  from  the  hither  bank  of 
Little  River,  a  hundred  yards  or  so  from  the  road,  was 
the  modest  mansion  that  was  sought  on  that  fair 
morning.  There  were  two  large  single-storied  rooms 
with  a  wide  passage  between.  In  front  was  a  piazza 
extending  the  whole  length,  to  the  ends  of  which  two 
other  rooms  with  piazzas  had  been  joined,  facing  each 
other.  At  the  rear  of  the  passage  were  the  dining- 
room  and  pantry.  Flowers,  except  some  cape  jessa- 
mines and  vines  that  had  been  trained  on  a  lattice  be- 
tween the  posts  of  the  piazza,  found  no  place  because 
of  the  oaks  and  hickories,  but  were  in  the  large  garden 


86  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

at  some  distance  aside.  The  yard  of  four  or  five  acres 
was  fenced  with  poles  of  pine,  known  as  old-field,  from 
their  coming  np  on  the  worn  ground  on  which  had  stood 
the  oak  and  its  companions.  This  wood,  light  and 
spongy,  differing  from  both  the  short-leaf  and  the  long, 
yet  when  peeled  of  its  bark  and  fastened  with  chestnut 
posts,  made  enduring  and  not  unsightly  fences.  Along 
the  front  and  a  portion  of  the  sides  of  the  inclosure,  the 
Cherokee  rose  grew  in  much  profusion.  Everywhere 
about  were  evidences  of  neatness  and  tastefulness,  to 
which  the  economy  observed  in  their  appointments 
gave  an  added  interest. 

Stapleton  was  sitting  on  the  piazza  near  a  win- 
dow of  the  chamber  behind  him,  looking  backward  occa- 
sionally and  telling  to  his  wife  within  how  he  was 
amused  by  their  son  Alan,  astride  of  a  large  black -and- 
tan  hound  that  lay  stretched  upon  the  sanded  walk. 
Alan  wanted  to  have  a  ride,  and  was  seeking  to  enforce 
his  commando  by  pulling  at  the  dog's  ears.  The  good 
beast  would  like  to  take  a  nap.  He  gave  some  whining 
growls  meant  for  remonstrances,  and  once  in  a  while 
raised  his  head  and  looked  at  his  master  as  if  to  ascer- 
tain if  such  interruption  was  ratified  by  him.  Suddenly 
lie  rose  upon  his  feet  and  gave  a  loud  bark  as  of  inquiry. 
Then  Clarissy,  a  young  negro  woman  who  had  just  gone 
out  to  bring  the  child  away,  cried  : 

"  Law,  Mars  Jack !  yonder's  a  cayidge  at  de  gate,  en 
I  do  believe  its  Mars  Duncan's.  Yes,  dat's  Markis,  sho', 
en  dar  I  see  Miss  Alice  lookin'  out  de  winder  !  Git  up 
off  dat  nasty  dog,  boy,  bef o'  yer  Aunt  Alice  see  you  dar." 

Gathering  him  speedily,  she  bore  him  in.  As  she 
was  passing  her  mistress's  door,  she  cried  : 


ALICE  VISITS  THE  STAPLETONS.  87 

"  Law,  Miss  Calline  !  I  know  you  glad  ;  me,  too — 
come  along  here,  mister — mister  lioun'-rider,  and  let  me 
see  if  I  can't  git  you  in  some  sort  o'  fix  for  comp'ny. 
Which  one  o'  his  new  frocks  must  I  put  on  him,  Miss 
Calline,  his  red  streaked  or  his  yaller  striked." 

"  You're  a  goose,  Clarissy  !  "  said  Mr.  Stapleton  in 
good-humored  tone  ;  "  go  and  wash  his  face  and  hands 
and  comb  his  hair,  and  bring  him  back.  I  thought 
she'd  come  soon,  Caroline." 

"  I  knew  she  would." 

The  dapple  grays  came  up  trotting  gayly. 

"  Bless  your  heart  for  coming  so  promptly ! "  said 
the  host  while  assisting  the  visitor  to  alight. 

"  Howdye,  Mr.  Stapleton  !  "  she  said  joyously.  "  I 
congratulate  you.     How  are  Caroline  and  the  baby  ? " 

"  First  rate,  and  will  be  the  better  for  your  coming. 
Run  along  in,  and  you  and  they  have  over  the  Oh  heav- 
ens part  to  yourselves  while  I  attend  to  Marcus." 

It  was  at  home  that  John  Stapleton  showed  to  best 
advantage.  Manlike,  with  unstudied  manners  midway 
between  entire  ease  and  a  degree  of  awkwardness  that 
was  rather  pleasing  than  not,  he  was  one  to  be  loved  by 
men  and  women,  old  and  young,  equal  and  dependent. 

"  O  Caroline,  my  dear  sister  !  "  said  Alice. 

She  bent  down  and  let  the  white  round  arms  en- 
circle her  neck  as  she  kissed  the  lips  of  the  young 
second-time  mother.  In  another  corner  of  the  chamber 
was  a  bed  as  nicely  appointed,  on  which  the  husband 
was  wont  to  lie.  Upon  the  large  round  table  was  a 
vase  of  flowers,  and  two  smaller  upon  the  mantel. 

"  Why,  who  did  arrange  those  flowers  ?  "  asked 
Alice.     "  Clarissy  ? " 


88  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  No,  dear,"  answered  Mrs.  Stapleton,  pointing  to 
her  husband.     "  That  old  fellow  did  it." 

"  Mister  Stapleton !  " 

"  Caroline  told  me  how,  Alice,"  he  answered 
meekly. 

"  I  did  no  such  thing,  except  in  trailing  that  spray 
of  jessamine.  Why,  he  can  arrange  flowers  almost  as 
well  as  any  woman,  Alice." 

"  Come,  come,  Caroline." 

"  O  Mr.  Stapleton,  you  needn't  be  ashamed  of  that 
one  feminine  accomplishment,"  said  Alice. 

"  Oh  dear,  no  ;  I'm  delighted  rather  than  ashamed 
when  I  can  do  anything  that  pleases  Caroline's  taste.  I 
tried  to  remember  how  I  had  seen  her  handle  them, 
and  then  I  went  to  work." 

"  That  is  the  very  highest  motive  by  which  you 
could  have  been  inspired,  sir  ;  and,  thus  inspired,  I 
don't  wonder  at  your  doing  perfectly." 

"  Thanky-do,  ma'am.  And  now  let  me  say  that,  hop- 
ing you've  come  to  stay  a  day  or  two  at  least,  I  told  Mar- 
cus to  not  put  the  horses  in  the  stable  until  I  could  know 
your  intentions.  Say  yes,  if  it  is  possible,  and  I'll  give 
directions  for  them  to  be  turned  into  my  river-bottom 
pasture,  where  they  can  get  some  good  green  pickings, 
which  I'm  sure  they'd  like,  and  which  will  do  them 
good." 

"  Yes,  Caroline,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  stay  one 
night  with  you  if  you  wanted  me  ;  Duncan  said  I 
might.  But  bless  us  all  !  where  is  the  baby  %  I've 
been  here  full  ten  minutes  and  haven't  seen  her  nor 
Alan,  nor  heard  a  word  about  either." 

"  Come  out  from  under  that  pile  of  cover,  Miss  Cal- 


ALICE  VISITS  THE  STAPLETOXS.  89 

line,"  said  the  father,  "  and  show  yourself  to  the  com- 
pany." 

Laying  the  covering  aside  tenderly,  he  said  : 

"  Now,  Mistress  Guthrie,  I  leave  you  to  contemplate 
the  next  greatest  picture  in  the  world  while  I  go  out 
and  attend  to  your  team." 

Upon  another  walnut  table,  covered  by  a  cloth  woven 
of  homespun  thread  by  a  weaver  of  the  neighborhood, 
was  a  dinner  as  good  as  could  be  got  there,  and  good 
enough  for  any  ban  vivant  who  could  be  content  for 
once  to  go  without  wine.  Alice  sat  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  Alan  in  his  own  chair  by  his  father  at  the  foot. 
His  rattlings  about  the  hounds  and  the  new  baby  were 
interesting  to  both. 

■•And  you've  named  the  baby  Caroline,  Mr.  Staple- 
ton.     I  thought  you  would,  and  it  is  just  as  it  should  be." 

"  Of  course.  That  would  have  been  this  fellow's 
name  if  he'd  been  a  girl.  You  know  what  it  woidd 
have  been  if  not  Caroline  ? " 

"  No  ;  but  I  suppose  the  name  of  your  mother  or  of 
Mother  Guthrie." 

"  No ;  Mrs.  Guthrie,  I  suppose,  would  not  care  to 
have  her  name  continued  in  this  branch  of  the  family, 
and  my  mother  always  said  that  no  granddaughter  must 
ever  be  named  for  her,  because  she  didn't  want  her  to 
be  ashamed  of  it  when  grown.  /  think  Hannah  is  a 
very  good  old  name,  myself ;  but  when  I  said  no  to 
Caroline's  proposal,  then  she  said  Alice.  But  I  said  no 
aoain,  and  then  I  took  the  Bible  and  wrote  it  what 
it  is." 

"And  you  did  exactly  right ;  bless  Caroline's  dear 
heart  for  suggesting  my  name  !  " 


90  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  She  loves  you,  Alice,  loves  you  dearly." 

Her  eyes  moistened  as  she  spoke  in  return  to  this 
assurance,  so  needless  to  be  given,  yet  so  fond  to  hear. 

After  dinner,  when  Stapleton  had  gone  to  "where 
the  hands  were  at  work,  Alice,  placing  a  rocker  by  the 
side  of  the  bed,  said : 

"Mr.  Stapleton  is  very  proud  of  his  baby,  Sister 
Caroline,  including  the  name." 

"  Oh,  yes,  dear  Jack !  I  knew  that  he'd  want  to 
name  it  for  me ;  I  suggested  that  it  should  be  Alice ; 
he  answered  no,  not  this  time ;  but  said  if  we  had  had 
a  Caroline,  this  one  should  have  been  Alice." 

"  It  was  very  good  of  you  both  to  think  of  me  ;  but 
of  course  she  should  have  had  your  name.  I  am  de- 
lighted to  see  you  looking  so  well." 

••  AVhy,  I  am  so  all  the  time,  dear.  I'm  almost 
ashamed  of  myself  sometimes  for  being  always  so  well," 
she  answered  laughingly. 

And  she  looked  it,  as  she  lay  there  rosy  as  the  morn- 
ing, her  deep-blue  eyes  and  her  long,  loose,  yellow  hair 
helping  to  make  her  the  beauty  that  she  was.  If  they 
had  been  born  sisters  there  hardly  could  have  been  a 
warmer  affection  between  them,  nor  greater  confidence 
within  limits  which  others  with  wrong  purposes  had 
marked.  Each  could  not  fail  to  know  the  other's 
thoughts  of  things  beyond  those  limits,  and  one  of 
them  yearned  for  utterance  of  some  of  her  own. 

Of  a  family  among  whom  domestic  affection,  the 
sense  of  justice,  and  fair  dealing  had  been  handed  down 
from  generations,  Alice,  from  the  time  she  became  fa- 
miliar with  the  relations  among  the  Guthries,  had  suf- 
fered all  the  pain  which  an  honorable  woman  can  not 


ALICE  VISITS  TIIE  STAPLETONS.  91 

but  feel  in  such  circumstances,  a  pain  the  more  grievous 
because,  being  a  woman,  she  not  only  could  not  right 
the  wrong-doing,  but  for  the  same  reason  must  even 
seem,  by  the  silence  expected  of  a  wife,  to  be  a  partner 
in  the  continuance  of  its  infliction.  The  ways  in  which 
such  remonstrances  as  she  had  made  had  been  parried 
added  to  her  sense  of  the  shame  there  was  in  it  all, 
when  she  had  come  to  know  of  what  sort  was  the  man 
on  whose  account  such  treatment  had  been  inflicted. 
It  was  a  pity  for  Guthrie  that  he  had  not  yet  come  to 
know  well  this  wife,  and  to  understand  that  the  sorrow 
he  had  put  upon  her  on  one  line  of  his  conduct  was  not 
very  far  below  that  which  he  suffered  her  to  endure 
from  his  mother.  Alice  was  better  understood  by  the 
Stapletons,  who,  with  delicacy  corresponding  with  her 
own,  kept  themselves  while  in  her  presence  from  com- 
plainings of  any  sort,  and  in  any  mention  of  Mrs.  Guth- 
rie or  of  Duncan  spoke  in  generalities  in  which  an  out- 
sider could  not  have  known  but  that  all  their  family 
relations  were  such  as  were  common  among  the  best 
people  in  the  community.  Once,  and  once  only,  when 
Stapleton  was  not  present,  Alice  thought  she  might 
venture  to  hint  a  hope  for  change  in  their  property 
conditions.  She  spoke  with  embarrassment.  Mrs.  Sta- 
pleton answered  quickly : 

.  "  I  thank  you,  Alice,  dear.  I,  and  so  does  Jack, 
understand  entirely  your  feelings  and  wishes  about  us. 
But,  my  little  sister,  you  see  how  well  we  are  doing ; 
Jack  says  as  well  as  he  cares  for  us  to  do.  We  have  a 
first-rate  piece  of  land,  and  get  a  good  living  and  some- 
thing over  to  lay  up  for  the  children.  I  don't  know 
that  you  know  it,  but  when  Alan  was  born,  mother  pro- 


92  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

posed  to  make  over  to  me  some  more  property.  But  I 
told  her  without  hesitation  that  Jack  and  I  were  one 
person,  that  that  one  fact  was  the  foundation  of  my 
greatest  happiness  and  hope  for  this  life,  and  that  noth- 
ing, by  my  consent,  should  come  here  which,  being 
known  as  specially  mine,  might  make  me  feel  to  any  de- 
gree separate  from  him.  I  told  Jack  afterward  what  I 
had  said.     He  laughed,  kissed  me,  but  said  not  a  word." 

"  You  have  a  dear,  good  husband,  sister." 

"Alice,  he  is  perfect.  Dear  mother  never  could 
understand  Jack ;  but,  indeed,  she  never  seemed  to 
quite  understand  me,  and  somehow  always  had  a  notion 
that  I  didn't  love  her  as  I  ought ;  but  she  was  mis- 
taken. Jack  says  that  it  will  all  come  out  right  in 
time.  He  understands  you,  Alice,  as  well  as  I  do,  and, 
I  believe,  loves  you  as  well." 

Alice  looked  at  her,  and  big  tears  were  in  her  eyes. 
"  O  Sister  Caroline,"  she  said,  "  ever  since  I  have  come 
to  know  well  you  and  Mr.  Stapleton,  I  have  felt  that 
you  were  to  be  praised  and  congratulated  rather  than 
blamed  and  compassionated." 

Seldom  since  her  marriage  had  Alice  passed  a  night 
alone  in  a  chamber  of  a  country-house ;  never  in  this. 
They  put  her  in  a  wing  facing  the  south.  The  night 
sounds  imparted  soothings  to  which,  if  she  could,  she 
would  have  kept  awake  in  order  to  indulge  at  length. 
But,  as  a  baby,  she  fell  asleep  in  the  midst  of  the  sing- 
ing of  a  mocking-bird  that  from  a  plum  tree  near  the 
garden  gate  was  serenading  hia  mate  reposing  upon  her 
nest  in  a  vine  before  the  chamber  in  which  she  lay. 
Whoever  has  not  heard  the  night  music  of  the  mock- 
ing-bird has  failed  to  find  at  least  one  thine:  not  to  be 


MR.   BIIADDY'S  EXPOSTULATIONS.  93 

forgotten  throughout  life.  Beloved  as  he  is  in  the  day, 
as  sometimes  from  the  top  of  a  peach  tree  he  becomes 
so  transported  with  exultation  that  he  can  not  but  spring 
and  soar  high  upward,  as  if  some  of  his  exuberant  glad- 
ness he  must  send  up  into  heaven,  yet  he  is  sweeter  in 
the  night  season.  Sing  he  must,  by  night  and  by  day  ; 
but  at  night  his  joy  takes  on  serenity.  Away  from  the 
sight  of  his  love,  whose  rest  and  whose  ponderings  in 
hope  of  maternity  he  must  not  disturb,  he  subsides  into 
quiet  melancholy,  whose  low,  painless,  tender  moanings 
the  listener  feels  to  be  the  sweetest  of  all  sweet  sounds. 
On  the  morrow,  at  sunrise,  Alice  was  awakened  by  the 
same  bird,  as  from  a  nearer  tree  he  poured  his  throat 
in  salutation  of  the  new  day. 


CHAPTER  XL 

me.  bkaddy's  expostulations. 

Makcus,  as  most  of  his  race  were  usually,  was  an  ar- 
dent admirer  and  partisan  of  his  master.  He  well  knew 
his  sentiments  and  feelings  toward  the  Stapletons.  Be- 
sides, being  a  genuine  negro,  he  had  for  poor  white  peo- 
ple a  contempt  that  was  graded  by  the  degree  of  their 
poverty.  He  had  laughed  inwardly  at  the  idea  of  driv- 
ing his  fine  team  ten  miles  just  to  see  a  baby  newly  born 
to  those  who,  compared  with  his  own  people,  although  of 
the  same  blood,  were  poor  folks.  Yet  he  was  a  skillful 
coachman  and  in  every  respect  trustworthy  in  his  busi- 
ness.    He  said  to  the  other  servants  at  home,  and  to 


94  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

others  that,  of  course,  it  would  be  hard,  but  he  hoped 
to  be  able  to  staud  it  for  one  night,  and  neither  get 
snake-bit  nor  come  back  with  loss  of  all  town  manners. 
In  the  afternoon  he  walked  about  the  premises,  taking 
a  lofty  vague  interest  in  what  was  to  be  seen.  The  din- 
ner he  had  eaten  was  far  more  satisfactory  than  he  had 
counted  upon,  and,  upon  the  whole,  things  were  not  as 
bad  as  had  been  expected.  At  night  the  male  ne- 
groes, very  few  in  number,  tired  from  the  day's 
work,  not  long  after  supper  left  off  listening  to  his 
talk,  and  went  to  their  beds.  But  Clarissy,  who,  not- 
withstanding her  having  come  from  the  Stapleton 
side,  had  looks  and  manners  for  no  town  negro,  male 
or  female,  to  pretend  to  despise,  politely  lingered  in  the 
kitchen  until  her  services  would  be  needed  in  the 
house.  Marcus  thought  he  would  make  an  impression 
upon  her  and  Bitter,  the  cook,  her  mother,  and  thus  he 
began : 

"  Must  be  monstrous  lonesome  livin'  down  here, 
Miss  Clarissy,  so  fur  away  from  town." 

"Miss  Clarsy!  Umph ! "  muttered  the  mother, 
whose  back  was  turned,  as  she  was  kneading  her  dough 
for  to-morrow's  breakfast  rolls.  She  shifted  her  work 
so  that  she  could  face  the  guest,  and,  as  if  it  was  her 
special  task  to  try  to  maintain  the  conversation  with 
one  so  distinguished,  said  : 

"  Lonesome  !  What  'bout  ?  We  all  gits  a  plenty,  jes 
as  much  as  dem  dat  lives  in  town  en  think  dey  got  to 
think  more  o'  deyself  den  what  we  country  niggers 
does." 

Marcus  had  hoped  rather  to  engage  Clarissy  in  the 
conversation ;  still,  he  knew  that  he  could  more  than 


In  the  afternoon  Marcus  walked  about  the  premises. 


MR.  BRADDY'S  EXPOSTULATIONS.  95 

hold  his  own  with  any  one  of  a  people  so  benighted, 
and  so  he  blandly  replied  : 

"  Yes'm,  Ann'  Bitter  ;  but  people  does  natehul  love 
to  see  somebody  besides  home  folks  sometimes,  ef  fur 
nothin'  else,  fur  to  enjoy  deyself." 

"  Yes  ;  ah  ha !  now  I  understands  you,  Markis,  en 
dat  is  jes  what  we  does  down  here,  when  its  conwenant, 
en  we  wants  ter,  white  folks  en  niggers.'; 

"  Yes'm,  but  den  in  town,  you  know,  Aim'  Hitter, 
dey  is  some  fun." 

"  What  sort  o'  fun,  man  ?  Don't  you  en  dem  tother 
niggers  dar  have  no  work  to  do  dat  you  has  all  your 
time  cxceptin'  when  you  eat'n  en  sleep'en  to  have  your 
fun  1 " 

"  Oh,  yes'm,  we  has  our  work  ;  but  when  it  through 
wid  en  night  come,  a  body  ken  step  out  en  git  some 
fresh  ar,  en  have  a  little  talk  along  wid  'quaint'ces  en — 
en  females,  en  dat  make  whut  we  calls  town  sisciety." 

She  grabbed  her  dough  as  if  she  would  squeeze 
every  breath  out  of  it,  but  did  not  delay  in  her  words. 

"  Town  'siety !  Markis,  does  you  want  to  try  to 
make  me  b'lieve  white  folks  lets  you  niggers  go  trompin' 
about  all  over  dat  town  uv  a  night,  havin'  your  'siety, 
as  you  call  it,  long  o'  your  'quaint'ces  en — en — whut 
wus  dem  tother  folks  you  said  ?  " 

"  I  said  females." 

"  Does  you  mean  women,  Markis  ?  Beca'se  ef  you 
does,  en  we  all  lived  dar,  I  wouldn't  let  Clarsy  have 
nothin'  to  do  wid  it.  Dat  I  wouldn't !  'Quain'ces  en 
females  !  My  Lord  !  Whut  will  niggers  come  ter  when 
dey  gits  togedder  in  swarms  dat  way,  and  ain'  got  white 
folks  f ollerin'  'em  'bout  all  de  time ! " 


98  WIDOW  GUTIIRIE. 

"  Oh,  laws  o'  me,  Ami'  Bitter,  no  ma'am,"  said 
Marcus,  deprecatingly,  "  we  don't  do  no  tr&mpi?i\  be- 
cause we  lias  de  manners  to  not  do  sich  as  dat.  But  we 
walks  out,  en  may  be,  en  may  be  not,  jes  as  it  happen, 
we  draps  in  en  has  convisation  wid  genelmen  en  ladies." 

"  Umph,  umph  !  but,  Markis,  in  dat  town  does  dee 
call  nigger  women — does  dee  call  'em  females  en  ladies  ? " 
Then  she  paused  in  her  work  for  a  moment  and  looked 
at  him  searchingly. 

"  Yes'm,  course  we  calls  'em  females  en  ladies,  des 
like  dee  does  ev'ywhar." 

"  No,  sir,  none  o'  dem  big  words  out  here.  "We  calls 
niggers  here  jes  whut  dee  is,  ef  its  men,  er  ef  its  women, 
er  ef  its  boys  en  gals,  includin'  childern.  En  whut 
time  does  you  break  up  wid  your  con'gations  you're  talk- 
in'  'bout,  Markis ! " 

"  We,  in  gen'l,  Aim'  Hitter,  we  manages  to  be  home 
by  nine  o'clock,  en  may  be  leetle  befo' ;  beca'se  den  de 
bell  ring,  when  its  agin  de  law  for  colored  people  to  not 
to  be  at  dey  home." 

"  En  s'posen  you  ain'  notice  de  time  'mong  dem  fe- 
males, en  you  git  berlated,  den  whut?  You  has  ter 
dodge  en  cut  dirt,  don't  yer  ? " 

"  Oh,  in  dat  case,  we  does  de  bes'  we  ken,  Ann'  Bit- 
ter ;  but  we  in  gen'l  always  knows  de  time,  en  its 
monsous  sildom  anybody  git  took  up." 

By  this  time  Hitter's  work  was  over,  and  she  said  : 

"  Clarsy,  time  you  goin'  in  de  house." 

The  daughter  obeyed  instantly,  then  going  out  for  a 
few  moments  her  mother  found  and  brought  in  a  young 
man  and  said  : 

"  Markis,  I  hope  you  ken  try  to  put  up  for  one 


MR.   BRADDY'S  EXPOSTULATIONS.  97 

night  with  sicli  as  dis  place  can  'ford.  'Pears  like  your 
Miss  Alice  kin." 

"  Oil,  Ann'  Ritter,  law  me,  ma'am  !  I  been  perfec' 
delighted  down  here.  I  jes  rnn  on  jes  to  spen'  de 
evenin'  wid  you  en  Miss  Clarsy." 

"  Miss  Clarsy !  "  She  laughed  heartily,  then  said  to 
the  young  man : 

"  Lias,  take  Markis  'long  wid  you  for  de  res'  o'  de 
night.  You  kin  give  him  dat  cot  in  your  house,  er  you 
can  give  him  your  bed  en  you  take  de  cot,  whichever 
you  en  him  moughtn't  to  do  betwix'  you.  You  kin 
bofe  go  now." 

Marcus,  on  his  return,  reported  having  had  quite  a 
lively  time  of  it,  especially,  as  he  described,  "  wid  ole 
Aim'  Ritter,  a  high  ole  case." 

The  visitors  left  next  morning  in  time  to  reach 
home  at  dinner.  It  had  been  a  happy  meeting  for 
all. 

"  What  a  lovely  woman  Alice  is  ! "  said  Stapleton. 

"  Indeed,  she  is  !  I  wish  in  my  heart  that  brother 
knew  and  valued  her  more." 

"  Oh,  well,  my  dear,  he'll  find  her  out  in  good  time, 
I  suppose." 

He  was  always  an  apologist  for  the  infirmities  of  his 
wife's  people. 

They  had  not  long  been  gone  when  Peterson  Braddy 
made  his  appearance. 

"Caroline,"  said  her  husband,  "yonder  is  Peter. 
Coming,  I  suppose,  to  congratulate  us  about  the  baby." 

"  The  dear  old  fellow !  I'd  been  thinking  he'd  come 
soon.     I'm  glad  he  has." 

Having  alighted  and  tied  his  horse  to  a  tree,  he 
7 


98  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

came  on  up  the  walk,  slowly  and  as  if  hesitating,  Staple- 
ton  meeting  him. 

"  Is  sich  a  thing  lawful,  Jack  ? " 

"  What  thing,  Peter  ?  Howdye.  Delighted  to  see 
you ;  Caroline  said  she  thought  you'd  be  coining  soon." 

"  Well,  I  didn't  know  as  it  would  be  lawful  to  come 
at  sich  a  crootical  and  eventiful  time." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  the  very  time  of  times.  You  heard 
the  news  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  heard  'em.  Curious  how  when  babies  are 
mighty  nigh  as  common  as  blackberries  how  news  of  a 
fresh  one  will  travel.  Ma  heard  it  the  very  next  morn- 
ing. The  Davises  told  it  to  Emily  Pruitt,  and  she 
made  Billy  carry  it  over  to  ma.  All's  well,  I  hope,  and 
a  doin'  well  %     Girl,  they  said." 

"  Yes ;  just  what  I  wanted." 

A  brief  visit  to  the  chamber  and  a  brief  inspection 
of  the  new-comer  were  allowed.  Mr.  Braddy  made  the 
speech  that  he  had  prepared  while  on  the  way. 

"Well,  madam,  I  congrateyulate  you,  and  special 
that  the  baby  is  a  healthy,  and,  as  fur  as  I  can  judge 
from  the  way  you've  got  it  enweloped,  a  extremely  nice 
and  bootiful  one  for  its  age.  But,  madam,  what  I  con- 
grateyulate you  specialler  about  is  that,  instid  of  bein' 
alike  Jack  Stapleton,  it's  the  very  image  and  pictur'  of 
it's  mother,  as  by  good  rights,  a-bein'  of  a  girl  baby,  it 
ought." 

"  O  Mr.  Braddy,  it  is  exactly  like  Jack.  Look  at 
those  eyes." 

"  Predijice,  madam ;  nothin',  not  a  thing,  in  this 
blessed  world  but  predijice ;  and,  if  I  might  congrate- 
yulate again  and  some  more,  it  is  to  the  eft'eck  that  I'm 


MR.  BRADDY'S  EXPOSTULATIONS.  99 

glad  it's  so  for  your  sake  and  liis'n  to  boot,  for  because, 
madam,  when  a  married  man  have  no  great  shakes  to 
run  on  as  to  looks  and,  I  may  say,  nothin'  else,  it's 
rather  to  the  advantage  of  both  sections  of  the  family 
when  his  wife  think  she  can  afford  to  take  up  a  predi- 
jice  for  him." 

He  smiled  the  more  because  his  "  congrateyulations," 
as  he  termed  them,  turning  inward,  persuaded  him  that 
these  extemporaneous  remarks  were  nearly  as  good  as 
his  set  speech.  After  more  of  such  affectionate  rally- 
ing there  and  on  the  piazza,  the  gentlemen  went  out 
for  a  stroll.  Braddy  gave  a  graphic  account  of  the 
picnic,  dwelling  much  upon  the  manifold  charms  of 
Miss  Jewell. 

"  But,  Jack,  somethin'  was  rather  wrong  I  should 
say  to-wards  the  last  betwixt  her  and  Dunk's  wife.  I 
don't  suppose  she  said  anything  about  it  here — Missis 
Guthrie,  I  mean — and  if  she  did  it  ain't  any  of  my 
business." 

"  No,  Peter,  Alice  made  no  reference  to  Miss  Jew- 
ell that  I  heard  of." 

"  Oh,  well,  mayby  they  ain't  much  in  it ;  but  if  I 
ain't  easier  fooled  than  what  I  take  myself  to  be,  there's 
something.  Dunk  stuck  to  her  close  as  he  could  git, 
and  all  the  time,  except  when  she'd  just  call  up  some 
other  feller.  Everybody  saw  how  he  were  neglectin' 
of  his  wife,  and  I'll  be  dad  fetch  it  if  I  wasn't  sorry 
for  her ;  but  you  know  what  sort  of  a  bull-head  feller 
Dunk  Guthrie  is,  and  it  looked  like  he  done  forgot  all 
about  he  had  a  wife,  albe  she  was  as  handsome  a  woman 
as  was  on  the  ground,  to  my  opinion.  I  notice  her 
a-lookin'  at  'em  sometimes,  and  then  turnin'  herself  away, 


100  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

like  the  sight  wasn't  exactly  the  thing  she  rather  see ; 
and  final  Dunk  and  the  woman  sot  down  by  a  tree  and 
Dunk  begun  to  whisper,  when  all  of  a  suddent  that 
Miss  Jewell  she  ris  like  she  was  skeered,  and  she  looked 
at  Missis  Guthrie  and  she  started  to  go  to-wards  her ; 
but,  bless  your  soul,  Missis  Guthrie  she  ris  too,  and  she 
turned  her  back,  and  she  went  for  her  carriage,  and 
Dunk  arfter  her,  like  he  had  got  to  his  senses  at  last, 
and  they  went  for  home  in  short  order.  Miss  Jewell 
she  looked  non-plushed  for  a  while.  Still,  she  rattled 
on  with  me  while  her  school-girls  were  gitting  up  their 
things.  I  hope  they  isn't  anything  serious.  I  jes 
thought  I'd  tell  you  about  it.  I'm  not  going  to  open 
my  mouth  about  it  to  anybody  else." 

Stapleton,  after  some  rather  grave  reflection,  said : 

"  I've  been  told  that  Duncan  is  sometimes  impru- 
dent in  the  society  of  young  women.  His  wife,  who 
is  the  soul  of  honor  and  delicacy,  may  feel  hurt  occa- 
sionally by  his  thoughtless  deportment ;  but  I  hope  no 
harm  -will  come  of  what  you  tell  me,  Peter." 

"  I  do,  too,  but  I  wouldn't  swear  it.  I  know  Dunk 
Guthrie  better  than  you  do,  Jack." 

"  Perhaps  you  do." 

"  Jack  Stapleton,  you  know,  sir,  that  a  good  deal  of 
my  time  that  I  might  put  to  better  use  is  took  up 
a-thinkin'  about  you ;  and  special  these  last  three  days 
and  nights,  senee  you've  got  another  baby,  and  no  tell  in' 
when  sich  as  that  is  to  stop,  that  my  mind  a  heap  of  the 
time  I  jes  can't  keep  it  off  oK  your  wife  and  children  ? 
You  are  the  doggona-mightiest,  doggonedest  feller  I 
ever  knowed  in  all  my  life  that's  got  the  wife  you  has 
and  keers  nothin'  for  her  intrusts  nor  her  children's ; 


MR.  BRADDY'S  EXPOSTULATIONS.  101 

them  that's  done  come  already,  and  leavin'  out  them  in 
rapid  sequession  that's  to  come,  and  if  that's  cussin'  you'll 
have  to  excuse  it ;  that's  all  I  got  to  say." 

"My  sakes!  I  don't  think  I  understand  all  your 
oaths,  Peter  ;  but  they  sound  awful." 

"  That's  the  way  I  want  'em  to  sound  to  a  man  that's 
a-letting  Dunk  Guthrie  and  his  mother  cut  his  wife  and 
children  out  o'  their  rights,  and  he  hain't  the  enigy  nor 
not  the  sperrit  to  try  to  stop  it.  And  I  want  you  to 
know  that  I  ain't  the  onliest  man  nor  woman  that  talks 
that  way,  not  by  a  jugful." 

Others  of  the  neighbors,  with  more  or  less  directness, 
had  hinted  to  Stapleton  their  opinions  that  he  was  too 
submissive  to  a  state  of  things  that  it  was  worth  while 
to  protest  against  if  not  endeavor  to  alter,  and  even- 
tempered  as  he  was,  the  subject  was  disagreeable  to 
think  about,  more  so  to  discuss.  He  answered  with 
some  impatience. 

"  "Why,  Peter,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  In  the  first  place, 
the  property  belongs  to  Mrs.  Guthrie  by  Mr.  Guthrie's 
will.  In  the  next  place,  neither  Caroline  nor  I  care 
enough  about  the  matter  to  make  any  public  ado. 
"We've  got  as  much  as  we  need  now,  and  we  are  in- 
creasing it  as  fast  as  we  care  to.  Then  we  both  know 
that  complaining  will  have  no  result  but  set  people  to 
talking  more,  and  put  Caroline  on  hostile  terms  with 
the  family,  a  thing  she  wants  to  avoid." 

Braddy,  looking  at  him  with  a  grin  that  tried  to  be 
as  savage  as  possible,  asked  : 

"  "What  about  your  children,  sir,  male  and  female, 
female  and  male,  special,  female.    What  about  them  ?" 

"  0  Pete !    You  talk  as  if  the  children  were  bound 


102  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

to  perish.  Rather  than  that,  I  suppose  Mrs.  Guthrie 
will  do  something  for  them  in  her  will  ;  and  if  she 
doesn't,  I'm  not  disturbed  by  fear  of  not  being  able  to 
make  as  much  for  them  as  they'll  need.  I  won't  deny 
that  sometimes  I  feel  a  little  stung,  and  so  does  Caro- 
line, by  such  undeserved  treatment ;  but  I  don't  see  any 
way  to  remedy  it,  at  least  in  Mrs.  Guthrie's  lifetime, 
and  not  much,  if  any,  afterward." 

"  I  should  say  so  !  In  the  first  place,  the  old  lady 
ain't  a-goin'  to  die  before  you're  an  old  man.  She's 
a-goin'  to  live  tell  every  tooth — " 

"  Come,  Peter !  Such  talk  is  not  right,  nor  like 
you." 

"  Doggone  it  all,  no  !  It  ain't,  about  anybody.  I 
take  it  every  word  back.  I  forgot  myself  for  the  min- 
ute. But  it's  because  I  git  so  mad  sometimes  about  this 
whole  business  that  I  can't  always  keep  in  the  p's  and 
q's  like  a  man  ought  when  he's  a  talkin'  about  females 
of  all  kind.  But,  Jack,  die  when  she  will,  she's  goin' 
to  do  nothin',  or  what's  next  to  nothin',  for  anybody 
that's  got  your  name  stuck  on  to  the  end,  and  you 
know  Dunk  Guthrie  well  enough  to  not  doubt  in  your 
mind  that  he'll  take  every  blessed  thing  his  mother  will 
palm  off  on  him  hefore  she  die  and  when  she  die,  and 
then  it'll  be  too  late,  and  Tom  Tolly  say  it  ain't  fur 
from  being  too  late  now." 

"  That  so  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  it  is  so,  and  nothin'  else  out  so.  Pve  talked 
to  Tom,  if  you  wouldn't,  and  when  I  told  him  what  my 
father  used  to  tell  me  about  old  man  Guthrie's  will, 
which  he  was  one  o'  the  witnesses,  and  what  the  old 
man  said  about  it,  at  the  signin'  and  after  the  signin', 


MR.   BRADDY'S  EXPOSTULATIONS.  103 

Tom  said  the  will  wasn't  worth  the  paper  it  was  writ 
on.  But  now  let  me  tell  you.  The  children  was  noth- 
in'  but  children,  and  everybody  thought  Missis  Guthrie 
wras  goin'  to  do  right,  like  she  had  ought  to  and  like 
she  promised  the  old  man.  But  what's  closer  to  the 
p'int,  Tom  asked  me  if  your  wife  was  of  age  when  you 
married  her,  and  I  told  him  yes ;  because  you  and  her 
waited  a  purpose  till  she  were  twenty-one,  so  she 
couldn't  be  called  disobedient  to  her  mother.  Then 
what  you  reckon  Tom  said  ?  Why  he  up,  he  did,  and 
he  wTent  on  to  talk  about  the  law  of  the  case,  and  he 
say,  Tom  did,  that  the  Statchit  o'  Limitations — you 
know  what  that  is  better  than  I  do — but  it  potects 
orphans  and  minor  children  tell  they  git  of  age,  and 
after  that,  she  don't  bother  with  their  business,  but 
lets  'em  root  for  theirselves,  that  is  providin'  the  fe- 
male portions  of  'em  don't  marry  before  twenty-one 
and  so  git  flung  in  the  power  o'  their  husbands,  and  in 
that  case  the  Statchit  keep  on  hangin'  to  'em.  But 
you  see  how  it  is  in  your  case.  That  ar  Statchit  begun 
a-runnin'  ag'inst  your  wife  soon  in  the  mornin'  the  day 
you  got  married,  and  Tom  say  that  when  she  once 
starts  on  a  run,  they  ain't  anything  on  top  o'  the  ground 
can  head  her  or  stop  her,  and  he  say,  Tom  do,  that  in 
less  than  another  year  she'll  be  gone  for  good,  because 
the  law  give  you  four  years,  and  you've  used  up  three 
of  'em.  Now,  Jack,  I  have  brung  in  Tom's  name 
ruther  aginst  his  consent,  because  Tom  Tolly  ain't  one 
to  want  nobody  to  think  that  he  is  after  gittin'  a  law 
case  by  meddlin'  in  other  people's  business.  He  jes 
answered  my  questions  as  I  asked  'em,  and  he  answered 
'em  pine  blank." 


104  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  Tom  ought  to  know  that  I  couldn't  misjudge  him, 
Peter,  but  don't  you  see  that  an  attack  upon  the  will 
would  be  imputing  fraud  to  Mrs.  Guthrie." 

"  No,  it  wouldn't.  Or,  if  so  be,  it  would  be  taken 
it  off  of  Mister  Guthrie.  "Why,  sir,  one  thing  made 
pa  suspicion  about  the  thing  was  because  the  old  man 
Guthrie  was  so  fond  of  his  daughter.  It  was  Calline 
this,  and  Calline  that ;  and  he  proved  everything  he 
said  about  how  good  and  smart  she  was  by  her  own 
mother,  and  he  got  her  promise  to  take  keer  of  her,  and 
after  all  that,  lo !  and  behold  !  Oh,  my  Lord !  If  I 
can't  sometimes  think  I  can  see  little  Alan  Stapleton  a 
growed  up  man,  with  his  grandpa's  name  exceptin'  of 
that  tag  a  comin'  on  behind,  and  what's  worse  a  awful 
sight,  Calline  Stapleton,  the  very  pictur  of  her  mother, 
bootiful  as  a  pink,  sharp  as  a  brier,  smart  as  a  steel-trap, 
and  both  of  'em  poor  as  Job's  coffin,  or  his  turkey, 
either.  I'll  be  dogamighty  doggoned  to  dognation,  by 
the  eternal,  if  it  don't  hurt  my  feelings  sometimes  to 
that  I  have  to  go  off  somewhar  and  mighty  nigh  cry ! " 

He  rose  from  the  log  on  which  they  were  seated, 
strode  around  within  a  moderate  circle,  kicked  violently 
several  stumps  and  tender  young  trees,  and  thus  having 
discharged  some  of  his  exuberant  passion,  raised  his 
coat-tails,  thrust  them  backward  with  disdain,  and  re- 
sumed his  seat.  After  some  further  discussion  in  a 
calmer  tone,  they  returned  to  the  house.  A  little  more 
of  gallant  badinage  with  Mrs.  Stapleton,  and  the  visitor 
took  his  leave. 


MOTHER  AND  SON.  105 

CHAPTER  XII. 

MOTHER   AND    SON. 

Guthrie  had  spent  the  evening  with  his  mother. 
It  was  thus  that  she  preferred  to  have  him  with  her- 
self. Heartily  as  she  had  favored  his  marriage  with 
Alice  Ludwell,  because  it  was  in  accord  with  her  no- 
tions regarding  property  and  family  connections,  yet 
she  could  never  subdue  the  jealousy  always  indulged  at 
the  thought  of  his  becoming  attached  to  anybody  else 
more  fondly  than  to  herself.  This  feeling  was  in  her 
breast,  distinctly  asserting  itself  when  for  the  first  time 
she  took  into  her  arms  his  bride.  When  she  discov- 
ered the  infirmity,  Alice  partly  compassionated  and 
partly  excused  such  devotion  to  one  whom  she  her- 
self worshiped,  and  she  hoped  and  endeavored  to  be- 
come as  much  a  daughter  to  her  as  Duncan  was  her 
son.  The  futility  of  such  endeavor  was  soon  made 
manifest,  and  the  refusal  to  join  in  ignoring  Mrs.  Staple- 
ton  increased  the  distance  between  them.  Mrs.  Guthrie's 
jealous  eyes  noted  not  only  without  alarm,  but  with 
pleasure  the  failure  of  Alice  to  make  Duncan  less  ready 
to  accept  her  undue  partialities.  He  did  not  appear  to 
object  to  the  growth  of  attachment  between  his  sister 
and  his  wife,  perhaps  because  they  served  in  a  degree  to 
palliate  public  sentiment,  which,  as  he  must  know,  con- 
demned the  treatment  of  the  former.  So  the  relations 
between  her  son  and  her  daughter-in-law  had  become 
about  as  Mrs.  Guthrie  would  have  planned. 

At  a  massive  mahogany  table  covered  with  red  dam- 


106  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

ask  mother  and  son  sat.  Thereon  were  two  branched 
silver  candlesticks  and  a  service  of  silver  none  or  little 
the  worse  from  having  been  through  several  genera- 
tions. A  variety  of  good  things  were  served  ;  for  Mrs. 
Guthrie  often  said  that  the  only  difference  between  her 
meals  when  alone  and  when  having  company  was  the 
length  of  her  table  and  the  quantity  of  eatables  put 
upon  it. 

"  I'll  lay  Alice,  nor  her  mother  before  her,  cant  beat 
that  cup  of  coffee,  Duncan." 

"  No,  indeed ;  but  Alice  tries  to  learn  all  the  arts 
about  coffee,  and  she  would  succeed  faster  but  that  she 
herself  prefers  it  weak,  having  some  sort  of  notion  that 
when  strong  it  is  not  good  for  her." 

"  Yes  ;  that's  just  the  notion  of  some  young  married 
women  and  housekeepers  these  days.  They  think  they 
must  study  about  their  nerves.  I'm  thankful  that  wasn't 
the  case  with  me.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  was  married — and 
not  married  young  at  that — and  had  children  before  I 
knew  that  I  had  any  nerves,  and  my  suspicion  is  that 
doctors  encourage  the  idea  of  'em  to  make  people  send 
for  them  oftener,  when  my  opinion  is  that  often  what's 
the  principal  matter  with  complaining  people  is  the 
need  of  sticking  closer  to  work,  meddling  as  little  as 
they  can  help  in  other  folks'  business,  and  keeping  up 
an  appetite  for  their  victuals." 

After  supper  they  repaired  to  the  piazza,  Mrs.  Guth- 
rie taking  with  her  a  vast  turkey-tail  fan  in  defense  of 
the  heat  which  her  generous  supper  had  encouraged, 
and  now  she  was  ready  for  a  chat  of  the  sort  she  liked. 

"  So  Alice  thought  she  must  go  down  to  Caroline's. 
Well,  I'm  glad  she  went.      If  there's  anybody  /  am 


MOTHER  A}TD  SON.  107 

sorry  for,  it's  poor  Caroline.  She  was  a  beautiful  girl, 
and  could  have  done  so  much  better.  Yet,  as  far  as  I 
can  see,  she's  never  showed  the  first  sign  that  she 
thought  she'd  made  a  mistake.  Of  course  she  can't 
help  herself  now ;  but  I  do  think  when  she's  in  my 
presence  and  I  happen  to  mention  that  man's  name,  she 
needn't  take  me  up  before  I've  said  anything  like  what 
I  started  out  to  say,  and  then  go  to  running  on  about 
what  a  great  man  he  is,  and  how  devoted  to  her  and  she 
to  him.  At  my  time  of  life,  and  knowing  how  violently 
I  was  opposed  to  her  marrying  him,  such  as  that  seems 
to  me  ungrateful.  But  I  don't  object  to  Alice  going- 
there  occasionally,  because  it  looks  better  before  the  com- 
munity for  some  of  the  family  to  fall  in  there  once  in  a 
while —  Yes,  light  your  cigar,  my  son.  I  don't  mind 
it  out  here.  Indeed,  I  love  for  you  to  smoke,  although 
I  despise  the  thing  in  the  house  when  it's  got  cold. 
But  I'd  rather  you'd  smoke  than  not,  because  you  love 
it,  and  because  when  other  people  are  having  you  to 
themselves  and  I'm  here  all  by  myself,  even  the  cold 
scent  of  your  cigar,  if  nothing  else,  is  some  comfort  to 
me,  because  it  minds  me  of  the  times  before  anybody 
came  between  us ;  not  that  I  don't  think  you  married 
very  well,  and  as  well  as  any  mother  ought  to  expect, 
Duncan,  and  I  think  a  heap  of  Alice ;  you  know  I  do." 

"  Certainly,  mother,  and  I  am  very  glad  to  know  it. 
Alice  is  a  good  woman  and  a  good  wife.  She  knows 
by  this  time  that  nobody  can  ever  get  entirely  between 
you  and  me.  She  is  sorry  for  Caroline,  just  as  you  are, 
and  feeling  that  she  ought  to  go  there  sometimes,  I 
never  object  when  she  proposes  it." 

"  I'm  glad  you  don't,  and  it's  very  good  in  yon  to 


108  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

be  indulgent  with  her  under  the  circumstances.  Yes, 
smoke  your  cigar.  I  like  to  smell  it  when  you  are 
smoking.  Nobody  else.  I  hope  Caroline,  no  matter 
how  much  he  may  want  it  done,  will  not  name  Jack 
Stapleton's  child  after  me.  I  suppose  Alice  will  tell 
me  or  send  me  word  how  Caroline  is  when  she  gets 
back.  Ah  me !  It's  hard  at  my  time  of  life.  But, 
Duncan,  I've  had  so  much  trouble,  one  kind  and  an- 
other, do  you  know  I've  learned  better  how  to  fight  it 
off  than  I  used  to  ?  For  lighting  is  the  only  way  to  meet 
it.  I  wonder  if  they'd  take  a  few  more  negroes  now 
since  another  mouth  has  come  to  be  fed.  That  creature 
hooted  at  it  when  Alan  was  born,  or  made  Caroline 
do  it,  having  her  under  his  thumb  as  he's  always  had 
her,  because  I  wanted  to  settle  them  so  he  couldn't  put 
his  paws  on  them  to  sell  them  for  his  debts." 

"  I  doubt  if  they  would  take  them,  mother,  in  the  way 
you  would  propose.  Of  course,  you  will  do  as  you  think 
best ;  but,  if  I  were  in  your  place,  I  think  I'd  send  them 
a  few  negroes  and  a  little  money,  and  say  nothing  about 
any  settlement.  Jack  is  not  a  money-making  fellow; 
but  he's  not  a  spendthrift.  Like  other  men,  he's  natu- 
rally opposed  to  his  wife  having  any  estate  separate  from 
his  own." 

To  do  Guthrie  justice,  his  greed  for  fortune  was  far 
from  being  as  eager  as  his  mother's,  and,  while  he  was 
willing  to  have  the  lion's  part  of  what  she  had  to  be- 
stow, he  really  wished  that  his  sister's  should  be  larger 
than  it  was.  This  was  as  well  from  some  sense  of  jus- 
tice and  natural  affection  as  for  the  sake  of  mitigating 
public  opinion,  which  he  well  knew  to  be  against  him- 
self, though   not  to   the   same   degree  as  against  his 


MOTHER  AND  SON.  109 

mother.  He  liad  a  desire  for  the  Legislature,  to  which, 
during  a  period  long  before  and  several  years  after,  the 
counties  generally  used  to  send  their  ablest  men  ;  but 
those  closest  to  him  had  kept  him  from  making  a  can- 
vass, assured  that  he  would  be  defeated.  He  made  that 
suggestion  to  his  mother  sincerely,  knowing  that  it 
would  at  least  do  himself  no  harm,  if  he  had  little  hope 
of  its  doing  Mrs.  Stapleton  any  good. 

"  I  shall  do  no  such  a  thing  !  Whatever  I  may  give, 
I  mean  to  give  to  those  children.  I  can't  bear  the  very 
thought  of  Jack  Stapleton  owning  any  more  of  my 
property,  dead  or  alive ;  and  one  thing  I  had  on  my 
mind  to  tell  you  to-night  was  I  wanted  you  to  make  out 
a  will  for  me.  Not  that  I'm  not  as  healthy  and  feel  as 
healthy  and  strong  as  I  ever  felt  in  my  life ;  and  a  will 
is  a  solemn  sort  of  thing  to  keep  about  a  body,  or  even 
to  put  their  name  to  it,  that  they  know  is  one  thing  to 
outlast  them,  and  give  every  blessed  thing  away  except 
the  clothing  they're  buried  in  ! " 

She  rose,  fanning  herself  rapidly,  and  instantly  sat 
down  again. 

"  But,"  she  continued,  "  all  such  as  that  is  notions, 
of  course,  and  means  nothing  here  nor  there,  and  I  feel 
like  it  wouldn't  be  right  to  you  to  keep  putting  it  off. 
I  can  sign  the  thing  without  looking  at  it,  and  you  can 
keep  it,  as  I  wouldn't  feel  comfortable  having  it  here 
in  the  house.  So,  when  I  get  ready  for  it,  I'll  tell  you 
how  I  want  it." 

The  law,  as  Guthrie  well  knew,  has  always  been  sus- 
picious of  wills  in  the  handwriting  of  favored  legatees 
whose  claims  by  natural  right  are  not  superior  to  those 
of  some  others.     He  informed  her  of  this,  and  she 


110  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

caught  instantly  the  need  of  making  everything  en- 
tirely secure. 

"  Well,  who  had  I  better  get  to  write  it,  then  ?  Mr. 
Jamison  used  to  attend  to  what  law  business  your  father 
had  ;  but  I  don't  want  him  for  that,  and  I  have  my  rea- 
sons. Your  father  sent  for  him  to  write  his  will,  when 
at  last  I  got  him  to  see  he  ought  to  make  one,  and  he 
wouldn't  do  it,  because  he  said  your  father  wasn't  strong 
enough  at  the  time — like  he  knew  anything  about  it,  or 
that  it  was  any  of  his  lookout — and  he  went  away  saying 
he'd  attend  to  it  some  other  time;  and  so  I  got  your 
father  to  let  me  send  for  Mr.  Suttle,  and  he  wrote  it. 
The  fact  is,  I  knew  it  was  a  thing  it  wouldn't  do  to  put 
off,  because  your  father  he  got  to  going  into  some  sort 
of  decline.  He  could  go  about  as  well  as  ever,  and 
had  as  good  an  appetite  as  he  ever  had ;  but  he  got  to 
having  some  sort  of  headaches,  and  they  made  him  fret- 
ful and  rather  suspicious,  and  it  took  a  heap  of  pains 
sometimes  to  keep  him  down  from  being  against  every- 
body except  Caroline !  He  was  right  in  his  mind  ex- 
cept fretful  and  making  more  of  Caroline  than  me  and 
you  both,  and  more  than  he  always  had  been  doing. 
But,  by  the  closest  attention  and  all  of  old  Job's  pa- 
tience, I  got  him  out  of  that  long  enough  to  get  him 
to  consent  to  make  his  will ;  and  I  told  him  he  knew  I 
was  a  business  woman,  and  to  will  the  property  to  me 
to  manage  the  best  I  could,  and  he  told  me  to  have  it 
made  just  as  I  wanted  it.  And  so  that  was  the  will 
Mr.  Suttle  wrote,  and  he  witnessed  it,  and  so  did  Jimmy 
Butcher,  that  lived  in  that  little  house  on  the  Augusta 
road  just  out  of  town,  who  used  to  do  any  little  carpen- 
ter jobs  we  wanted  about  the  lot.     And  Mr.  Suttle  said 


MOTHER  AND  SON.  HI 

-\ve  had  to  have  three  witnesses,  and  at  that  very  minute 
old  Mr.  Braddy,  that  Pete  Braddy's  father,  was  riding 
by,  and  Mr.  Suttle  went  out  and  called  him  in.  I  was 
sorry  he  done  it  at  first,  because  he  seemed  like  he  must 
be  very  particular,  like  Mr.  Jamison.  But  I  was  glad 
of  it  afterward,  because  when  he  asked  your  father 
point-blank  if  that  was  his  will  he  was  signing,  your 
father  said  yes  promptly  and  squarely." 

During  this  narration  her  fan  was  doing  its  best 
work. 

"  Have  you  ever  mentioned  those  circumstances  to 
any  person,  mother  ?  " 

"  No,  not  until  now,  when  I'm  telling  them  to  you. 
The  main  reason  I  never  did  it  was  because  it  was  no- 
body else's  business.  It  was  all  right,  wasn't  it,  Dun- 
can %  You  ask  the  question  solemn-like — like  you  had 
some  suspicions,  too." 

"  No,  no,  mother.  I  could  have  no  sort  of  suspicion 
of  you  doing  anything  except  what  you  believed  to  be 
right.  I  merely  thought  I'd  ask  the  question.  I  had 
no  particular  reason.  AYhat  became  of  Butcher  ?  Do 
you  happen  to  remember  ?  Mr.  Suttle,  I  know,  moved 
to  Louisiana  some  years  back." 

"/  don't  know  what  became  of  Butcher.  They 
moved  away  somewhere  a  year  or  so  afterward,  where, 
I  don't  know,  and  never  asked.  Such  people  are  always 
moving  and  vibrating  about.  AVhat  makes  you  ask 
that  ?  " 

"  Nothing  very  particular,  mother.  As  you've  told 
me  of  the  will,  I  was  just  thinking  I'd  get  all  the  infor- 
mation about  it  that  I  could.  It  is  very  interesting  to  me." 

"  Duncan,"  she  said  after  a  thoughtful  silence  of  a 


112  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

minute  or  more,  "as  I  have  told  you  that  much  I've 
concluded  to  tell  you  some  more." 

She  rose,  walked  into  the  hall  and  called  to  Judy, 
who,  answering  from  the  rear  part  of  the  mansion,  came 
quickly. 

"  You  may  go  out  to  the  kitchen,  or  one  of  the 
houses,  and  stay  till  I  want  you.  Don't  you  come  till 
I  ring  the  bell." 

"  Yes'm,  mistess." 

"  Go  on." 

Returning  to  her  seat,  she  then  continued  : 

"  Duncan,  if  what  was  done  hadn't  been  done,  some- 
thing a  heap  worse  would  have  happened.  The  prop- 
erty you  see  me  with,  and  the  property  you've  got,  ex- 
cept what  you  married  into,  instead  of  being  where  it 
is,  would,  a  long  way  the  biggest  part  of  it,  be  on  Little 
River,  with  Jack  Stapleton  a-lordirig  over  it ;  and  you'd 
have  been  poor,  and  me — dead,  I  reckon,  and  that  of  a 
broken  heart.  Your  father  always  thought  I  was  par- 
tial to  you,  and  that  made  him  more  partial  to  Caro- 
line ;  and  the  fact  is,  I  had  to  do  something  to  keep  me 
and  you  from  being  cut  ofi°,  as  he  came  near  threatening 
to  do  more  than  once  after  his  headaches  came  upon 
him.  Caroline  loved  her  father,  and  was  always  hug- 
ging and  nattering  whenever  she  was  about  him  ;  but 
you  was  rather  shy  of  him,  and  you  held  mostly  to  your 
mother,  as,  bless  your  heart,  you  have  always  done.  If 
it  was  to  do  over  again,  I'd  do  it  a  thousand  times." 

"You  did  as  you  thought,  best,  mother,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  about  that.  Did  father  refer  much  to  his 
will  after  it  was  executed  ? " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  executed '  ? " 


MOTHER  AND  SON.  113 

"  I  mean  the  signing." 

"  No,  not  one  single  time  ;  not  to  me  he  didn't.  I 
think  he  forgot  all  about  it,  and  I  was  glad  he  did.  If 
he  hadn't,  and  had  taken  into  his  head  to  make  another, 
woe  be  to  me  and  you  ;  for  he  used  to  cry  and  go  on, 
and  say  nobody  cared  anything  for  him  except  Caroline. 
But  after  he  signed  the  will  he  calmed  down  out  of  all 
that,  and  never  spoke  a  cross  word  till  he  died  three 
months  after.  But  he  never  took  to  his  bed  till  a  week 
before  that.  "What  makes  you  ask  so  many  questions, 
Duncan  ?     You  actually  worry  me." 

"  I  only  wanted  to  get  at  all  the  facts,  mother,  so  as 
to  be  sure  of  the  ground  we  stand  on.  Did  he  give 
you  any  directions  or  any  advice  about  the  management 
of  the  property  ?  " 

"  Not  one  word.  Your  father  knew,  of  course,  that 
I  had  sense  enough  to  do  what  was  best  with  my  own 
children,  and  I  have  done  it,  and  I  mean  to  keep  on 
doing  it ;  but  I'm  going  to  do  it  in  my  own  way,  be- 
cause I've  been  through  too  much  for  Caroline  Staple- 
ton,  as  she  chooses  to  call  herself,  in  disobedience  to  my 
wishes,  to  do  according  to  her  way,  and  specially  the 
way  of  that  creature." 

"Well,  mother,"  he  said,  rising,  "it  is  getting  time 
for  us  both  to  sleep.  You  think  about  it,  and  when 
you  have  decided  as  to  what  you  want  let  me  know. 
I'd  be  as  liberal  with  Caroline  as  I  could.  There's 
nothing  to  hinder  your  giving  what  you  please  to  the 
children." 

"  That's  what  I  shall  do  with  what  I  do  do.     But 
don't  go  quite  yet.     Sit  down.     I  haven't  told  all  I 
wanted.     Sit  down,  sit  down/' 
8 


114  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

Her  voice,  which  had  been  low,  sank  lower,  and  its 
tone  was  one  of  sadness  with  some  bitterness. 

"  Old  as  I  am,  and  young  as  I  have  been,  my  son, 
I've  never  had  nigh  the  comfort  that  I  think  I  ought. 
It's  always  been  my  nature  to  want  to  love  and  be 
loved,  and  I  always  knew  how  to  give,  but  never  how 
to  get — that  is,  until  you  were  born.  I  can't  tell  yon, 
nor  I  won't  tell  you  many  of  the  things  I've  been 
through,  even  with  your  father  about  Caroline.  But 
although  I  longed  for  it,  the  child  never  cared  for  me 
from  the  time  even  before  she  was  weaned ;  but  her 
father  was  all,  all,  everything  to  her  even  then  ;  and 
when  she'd  get  enough  nourishment  from  me,  if  her 
father  was  by,  she'd  hold  out  her  hands  to  him  and  cry 
if  he  didn't  take  her  that  very  minute,  and  all  I  could  do 
I  couldn't  get  her  to  care  anything  for  me  except  to  be 
fed.  Your  father,  he'd  laugh  and  say  to  not  mind  it, 
because  she  was  too  young  to  know  any  better,  and 
she'd  come  all  right  in  time.  But  I  tell  you,  Duncan, 
it  rankled  through  my  very  blood  to  think  after  all  I'd 
been  through  in  my  life,  and  what  I  had  been  through 
for  her,  that  she  was  the  most  beautiful  thing  I  ever 
laid  my  eyes  on,  and  then  for  her  to  not  have  any  love 
for  me  !  Why,  it  makes  me  wretched  now,  sometimes, 
here  by  myself  to  think  of  how  miserable  it  used  to 
make  me  when  I'd  be  suckling  her  and  she'd  look  up 
in  my  face,  let  go  the  breast,  and  go  to  screaming  till 
I'd  have  to  turn  her  over  to  her  father  or  her  nurse, 
and  wished  to  God  she'd  never  been  born  !  The  child 
could  see  at  that  very  time — she  could  see  the  misery  she 
was  giving  me,  and  I  declare  sometimes  if  she  didn't 
look  like  she  was  sorry  she  couldn't  love  me.     And 


MOTHER  AND  SON.  115 

when  you  came  I  said  to  myself,  have  I  got  to  go 
through  such  as  that  again  and  have  children  to  love 
other  people  and  not  me  ?  and  I  could'nt  tell  the  times 
before  you  were  born,  and  after  it,  I  got  down  on  my 
knees  and  I  told  God  Almighty  that  I  thought  any 
mother  was  entitled  to  the  love  of  at  least  one  of  her 
own  offspring,  and  then — come  here  a  minute,  Dun- 
can." 

When  he  came  she  embraced  him,  shedding  hot  tears 
the  while  ;  but  a  moment  afterward,  releasing  him,  and 
drying  her  eyes,  she  said  : 

"  That'll  do  ;  go  back  to  your  seat.  Only  the  Lord 
knows  what  a  comfort  he  sent  to  me  in  you  ! 

"  But  I  never  mistreated  Caroline.  Of  course  no 
mother  could  do  that  with  her  own  child.  I  just  let 
her  alone,  except  to  work  for  her  and  do  for  her  the 
same  as  I  worked  and  done  for  you.  I  never  laid  my 
hand  on  her  to  strike  her  in  all  her  life.  And  when 
you  showed  so  different,  I  said  to  myself,  Mr.  Guthrie 
had  one  to  himself,  now  I've  got  one  to  myself.  But  a 
man's  a  man,  and  he  wants  all,  and  he  tried  to  make  you 
love  him  like  you  did  me ;  but  I  swore  you  shouldn't. 
And  when  at  last  he  began  to  fail,  and  go  on  so  with  his 
threats — "  She  rose,  looked  round,  then  advancing 
with  one  arm  high  lifted,  whispered  :  "  Duncan  Guth- 
rie, before  that  should  have  been  done,  I'd  have  done 
things  which  you  lawyers,  and  you  judges  think  you 
must  send  people  that  do  'em  to  your  pem-tentiary  / 
but  I'd  have  killed  the  one  that  first  laid  hands  on  me 
to  take  me  there  !  Now,"  turning  away,  "  you  may  go 
on  home.  I'll  let  you  know  when  I  want  anything 
done.     Don't  name  it  to  me  till  I  tell  you.     I  won't  be 


116  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

fit  in  some  time  to  talk  about  it,  and  I  don't  expect 
to  get  hardly  a  wink  of  sleep  this  night." 

She  let  him  press  her  cheek  with  liis  lips,  then  turned 
into  the  house.  Her  maid  came  running  to  the  sound 
of  the  bell. 

"  Judy,  put  your  mattress  on  the  floor  at  the  foot  of 
my  bed,  and  when  you've  washed  your  hands,  sprinkle 
some  cologne  water  over  both  my  pillows ;  then,  after  I 
get  to  bed,  do  you  go  to  rubbing  me  till  I  get  to  sleep 
or  tell  you  to  stop." 

Guthrie  pondered  the  revelations  made  by  his  moth- 
er, and  they  gave  him  some  anxiety.  Mr.  Macfarlane,  in 
his  efforts  through  him  to  induce  her  to  do  a  more  liberal 
part  by  Mrs.  Stapleton,  had  spoken  with  some  earnest- 
ness of  what  was  generally  known  to  be  the  state  of  his 
father's  mind  about  the  time  when  the  will  purported  to 
have  been  executed,  and  hinted  that  some  trouble  might 
come  if  efforts  should  ever  be  made  to  set  it  aside.  Guth- 
rie did  not  expect  that  such  action  would  ever  be  begun, 
and  he  never  had  feared  that  if  begun  it  could  suc- 
ceed. But  his  mother's  case,  he  saw,  was  not  as  strong 
as  he  had  always  been  supposing,  and  the  bare  possibil- 
ity of  public  investigation  gave  him  some  apprehension. 
He  wished  now  more  earnestly  than  ever  that  she  had 
done,  or  that  she  would  do  what  at  least  would  tend  to 
satisfy  the  public,  and  he  resolved  that  he  would  urge 
such  action  upon  her  as  soon  as  he  could  find  her  in  fit 
mood.  He  lay  awake  much  longer  than  usual,  but  the 
night's  rest  reinvigorated  his  spirits,  and  he  doubted 
not  that  he  could  manage  the  business  with  satisfactory 
results. 


ALICE  INTERPOSES   FOB  THE  STAPLETOXS.      11 7 

CHAPTEK   XIIT. 

ALICE   INTERPOSES    FOR   THE    STAPLETOXS. 

The  sight  of  a  peaceful  home  like  that  in  which  she 
had  been  reared,  wherein  domestic  love  and  trustfulness 
far  more  than  made  amends  for  scant  property  and 
injustice  endured,  touched  Alice  with  tenderness  and 
sympathy.  Her  mind  dwelt  much  upon  the  conjugal 
love  and  happiness  which  no  outside  assaults  nor  neg- 
lects could  molest.  Exquisitely  painful  was  the  sight 
of  the  care  with  which  the  Stapletons  had  to  econo- 
mize in  their  living  so  as  to  keep  within  their  income 
and  lay  up  a  trine  yearly  for  future  added  needs.  The 
home-made  clothes  of  Stapleton  and  Alan  contrasted 
with  her  own  costly  apparel  and  some  she  had  wrought 
for  the  child  just  born,  Alan's  admiring  embarrassed 
gaze  at  these,  and  many  other  such  things,  inflicted 
pain  that  was  intensified  by  the  thought  that,  although 
against  her  will,  she  in  some  degree  was  party  to  the 
wrong  that  had  made  these  conditions  exist.  She  shud- 
dered to  think  that  if  not  already,  there  was  danger  of  her 
becoming  an  unhappy  woman.  She  dared  not  admit  to 
herself,  as  she  rode  alone  in  silence,  regret  that  she  had 
ever  left  the  home  of  her  childhood.  For  she  had  given 
to  her  husband  her  whole  self,  and  she  could  not  but 
continue  to  yearn  for  some  at  least  of  the  returns  to 
which  she  regarded  herself,  thus  freely  and  entirely 
given,  to  be  entitled.  Only  one  time  had  she  remon- 
strated, and  that  with  delicate  mildness,  with  her  mother- 
in-law  about  a  state  of  things  that  she  had  never  thought 


118  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

to  be  possible  in  a  family  claiming  to  be  even  respect- 
able, and  seen  with  grief  and  shame  that  the  only  re- 
sult of  such  interference  was  diminution  of  her  own 
value  and  influence  in  the  family.  Yet  she  felt  herself 
bound  by  common  honesty  and  common  humanity  not 
to  give  up  all  efforts  in  that  behalf  with  her  husband. 
He  met  her  on  her  return  with  real  pleasure. 

"  I've  been  as  lonesome  as  a  ghost  without  you, 
Alice.  I  spent  the  evening  with  mother ;  but  I  can't 
tell  you  how  I  missed  you  afterward." 

He  spoke  sincerely.  During  her  absence,  her  value, 
as  it  is  with  selfish  people  generally,  seemed  higher  than 
when  she  was  with  him  all  the  time.  She  was  pleased 
by  the  many  questions  asked  by  him  with  more  than 
usual  interest  concerning  his  sister  and  her  children 
and  the  general  aspect  of  things  about  them.  Encour- 
aged by  his  words,  she  said  : 

"  Duncan,  my  dear,  contented,  even  happy,  as  Sister 
Caroline  and  Mr.  Stapleton  are,  I  could  not  keep  my- 
self from  wishing,  all  the  time  I  was  there,  that  they 
could  be  put  upon  a  higher  plane  of  living." 

He  had  hoped  that  she  would  not  mention  that  sub- 
ject again,  although  he  had  thought  to  allude  to  it  him- 
self, but  on  his  own  motion  and  at  his  own  leisure.  He 
answered,  dryly : 

"  I'm  sure  I  wish  so  too." 

She  noticed  his  tone,  but  decided  to  proceed. 

"  Then  why  not  urge  mother  to  do  more  for  them  ? " 

"  Because,  Alice,  it  is  simply  useless.  Mother  has 
her  own  notions  about  Jack  Stapleton,  in  which,  to 
some  extent,  I  agree  with  her.  He  has  never  made 
the  least  effort  to  conciliate  her  opposition,  nor  mine 


ALICE  INTERPOSES  FOR  THE  STAPLETOXS.      HQ 

either.  Poor  as  lie  is,  and  without  hereditary  name 
and  family  importance,  his  bearing  is,  or  tries  to  he, 
like  that  of  an  owner  of  an  inherited  barony.  I'll  ad- 
mit that  he's  an  attractive  man — rather  so— to  women 
particularly,  and  Caroline,  poor  thing,  thinks  she  is 
fully  blessed  in  having  such  a  fellow  all  to  herself.  lie 
never  comes  to  see  mother,  Caroline  seldom,  and  when 
she  does,  her  deportment  is  constrained  and  unaffection- 
ate.  Still,  both  I  and  Uncle  Dennis  Macfarlane  have 
urged  mother  to  do  something  more  for  them  in  spite 
of  their  treatment  of  her,  and  she  offered  to  do  so,  and 
only  last  night  she  assured  me  of  her  intention  (as  Caro- 
line refuses  the  offer  of  any  separate  estate)  to  make  over 
to  the  children  something — she  did  not  say  how  much/' 

"As  for  Caroline's  refusal,  offered  with  such  con- 
ditions," Alice  replied  in  a  low  voice,  wishing  to  re- 
strain her  feelings,  "  I  would  have  done  the  same,  and  I 
can  not  call  to  my  mind  a  woman  among  my  acquaint- 
ance, at  least  among  my  friends,  who  would  have  acted 
otherwise." 

"  I  don't  see  the  aptness  of  comparing  the  action  of 
the  wife  of  such  a  man  as  Jack  Stapleton  with  what  my 
wife's  might  be  in  possible  similar  contingencies." 

"The  aptness  is  in  this:  Caroline,  like  every  wife 
who  is  thoroughly  loyal,  feels  that  she  and  her  husband 
are  one,  and  that  not  a  single  item  should  be  allowed 
to  come  in  that  would  tend  in  the  faintest  degree 
toward  their  separate  existence  or  any  apprehension  of 
it.  You  say  Mr.  Stapleton  never  comes  in  expressly  to 
see  mother.  Has  she  ever  deported  herself  toward  him 
so  that  he  could  infer  that  she  accepted  him  as  a  mem- 
ber of  her  family  ? " 


120  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  No ;  that  she  has  not ;  nor  have  I.  I'd  see  Jack 
Stapleton  at  the  bottom  of  Little  Biver  before  I'd  call 
him  brother ;  and  rather  than  call  him  son,  mother,  I 
suspect,  would  see  him  farther  than  that." 

"  Such  as  that  has  surprised  me  more  than  anything 
that  has  ever  come  within  my  experience ;  for  to  me 
Mr.  Stapleton  has  always  seemed  not  only  a  good  man, 
but  gentle  and  gentlemanlike.  I  don't  wonder  that 
such  a  man  could  win  Caroline's  affections,  and  that 
she  would  abstain  from  everything  that  might  imperil 
the  perfect  harmony  that  is  between  him  and  herself. 
"What  I  do  wonder  at  is  that  such  a  man  is  not  justly 
appreciated  where  just  appreciation  is  most  needed,  and 
where  it  would  produce  abundant  blessing.  Caroline  is 
devoted  to  him,  as  any  woman  must  be  to  such  a  hus- 
band ;  she  has  identified  herself  with  him  in  everything 
— property,  hopes  of  every  kind — and  a  happier  wife  I 
do  not,  and  never  did  know.  But  it  looked  wrong  for 
a  sister-in-law  to  be  the  first  and  only  one  of  her  im- 
mediate family  to  go  to  her  with  congratulations  and 
proffers  of  aid  on  such  an  occasion  as  now.  In  spite 
of  the  peace  and  contentment  to  which  I  was  witness,  I 
was  deeply  pained  by  thoughts  of  the  neglect  in  which 
they  are  suffered  to  live.  "What  the  end  of  such  discrim- 
ination is  to  be  God  only  knows.  But  I  notice  that  y<  >u 
want  me  to  stop  talking  about  it,  and  I  will.  I  owed  it 
to — to  myself,  among  others,  to  say  what  I  have.  That 
is  said  now,  and  you  need  not  apprehend  that  I  shall 
refer  to  the  subject  again." 

He  was  not  despotic,  nor  even  petulant.  Her 
words  had  little  influence  in  the  direction  most  desired  ; 
but,  to  some  extent,  he  sympathized  with  her  trouble, 


Alice, 


AT  THE  MACFARLAXES.  121 

unreasonable  though  it  seemed,  and  so,  appearing  to 
have  been  impressed  by  her  appeals,  he  declared  his  in- 
tention to  consider  more  carefully  the  case  of  his  sister 
and  her  family,  and  he  gave  his  promise  that  before 
very  long  he  would  confer  with  Mr.  Macfurlane,  and 
jointly  with  him  move  fur  whatever  further  advance 
his  mother  could  be  induced  to  make.  After  that  they 
had  other  talk  and  some  music. 

Alice,  when  she  went  to  bed,  hoped  that  her  visit 
and  the  report  made  concerning  it  had  not  been  in  vain. 
Upon  the  mind  of  her  husband,  fixed  within  the  last 
few  days  firmly  as  unexpectedly,  was  the  conviction 
that  it  was  to  cost  more  pains  than  he  had  counted  upon 
to  hold  respect  where  so  easily  he  had  conquered  affec- 
tion. The  promise  just  given  he  intended  to  fulfill,  par- 
ticularly as  it  was  in  the  line  of  the  resolution  made  the 
night  before.  But  he  felt  no  need  to  be  in  haste,  and 
so  he  delayed  and  kept  delaying  until  it  became  too  late. 


CHAPTEE  XIY. 

AT   THE    MACFARLANES. 

Mrs.  Macfarlane,  rather  small  in  youth,  now 
rounded  by  time,  good-living,  and  good  temper,  dif- 
fered from  her  sister  in  disposition  as  much  as  in  stat- 
ure and  general  appearance.  As  good  a  housekeeper, 
she  was  quiet  and  kindly  in  her  domestic  rule.  They 
were  no  wider  apart  now  than  they  had  been  in  their 
youth.     The  elder,  domineering  by  nature,  suppressed 


122  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

the  younger  as  much  as  she  could,  out  of  envy  for  the 
greater  love  and  admiration  paid  to  the  latter  by  most 
of  their  acquaintances.  Unable  to  conceal  the  rude  ele- 
ments of  her  being  during  a  period  regarded  by  her  as 
unjust  and  unreasonable,  she  did  not  receive  any  offer 
of  marriage  except  such  as  she  despised.  When  Mr. 
Macfarlane  began  to  visit  at  her  father's  house  and  ap- 
parently with  matrimonial  intent,  she  believed  that  his 
aim  was  for  herself ;  but  when  it  became  known  that 
her  sister,  just  come  to  womanhood,  was  the  favorite, 
she  made  little  effort  to  hide  her  disappointment,  and, 
almost  none,  her  resentment.  Marriage  some  years 
afterward  with  Mr.  Guthrie,  a  man  of  corresponding 
wealth  and  social  position,  seemed  to  satisfy  her  ambi- 
tion that  had  been  waiting  so  long,  although  she  con- 
tinued to  have  little  affection  for  Mrs.  Macfarlane, 
whom  she  could  not  cease  to  regard  as  a  rival  who  had 
surpassed  her.  Their  husbands  were  friends  and  co- 
laborers  in  behalf  of  the  general  welfare  of  the  com- 
munity, and  their  families  had  always  lived  on  decently 
affectionate  terms  with  each  other.  Since  the  death  of 
Mr.  Guthrie  they  had  become  yet  more  reserved  in 
their  intercourse  because  of  the  widow's  conviction  that 
some  of  her  actions  in  managing  the  estate  bequeathed 
her  by  her  husband  were  not  approved  either  by  Mr. 
Macfarlane  or  her  sister.  Occasionally  she  consulted 
with  the  former  about  her  business,  but  she  neither 
thanked  him  for  any  unasked  counsel  nor  heeded  it  ex- 
cept when  convinced  of  its  importance.  Under  her 
management  the  Guthrie  property  had  grown  to  be 
considerably  larger  than  his,  and  she  rather  suspected 
that  secretly  he  had  repented  of  having  gone  behind 


AT  THE  MACFARLANES.  123 

herself  in  his  choice  of  a  wife.  If  he  did  not  she  knew 
lie  ought,  and  that  was  enough.  Her  superior  hearing 
was  accepted  without  complaint  by  her  sister.  In  the 
family  it  was  a  matter  for  pleasant  jesting  as  well  as 
felicitation  that  she  had  learned  thoroughly  how  to  pre- 
vent assaults  from  Mrs.  Guthrie  by  making  the  latter 
always  foresee  that  they  would  not  be  resisted. 

The  younger  members  had  been  fond  of  one  an- 
other always,  and  now  and  then  Charlotte  made  a  visit 
of  a  day  or  two  to  Mrs.  Stapleton,  Avhom  she  dearly 
loved.  An  impulsive,  generous  girl,  she  had  spoken 
several  times  and  in  honest  terms  to  Duncan  about  the 
treatment  of  his  sister,  and  said  that  it  was  his  duty  to 
see  that  it  was  different.  Once  when  she  had  reported 
such  appeal  at  home  her  mother  said : 

"  Charlotte,  interference  on  your  part  is  sure  to  do 
no  good  to  Caroline,  and,  if  reported  to  sister,  will  set 
her  against  you.  She  always  would  reject  advice  from 
anybody  unless  when  it  coincided  with  her  own  notions 
and  resent  it  whenever  voluntarily  offered.  You  see 
that  already  she  looks  with  less  affection  upon  Alice, 
and  it  is  for  that  reason  mainly.  Your  father  has  quit 
talking  to  either  of  them  upon  the  subject,  and  I  charge 
you  never  to  allude  to  it  again  with  Duncan.  Of 
course,  you  don't  need  any  warning  about  talking  to 
your  Aunt  Hester  about  it." 

"  That  I  don't,"  answered  Charlotte  laughing,  "  but 
I  say  it  is  a  shame." 

"  Of  course  it  is,  and  your  father  has  warned  sister 
that  it  is  hardly  to  be  expected  but  that  Mr.  Stapleton 
some  time  or  another  will  seek  to  enforce  by  law  what 
he  already  believes  to  be  his  right ;  but  that  is  his  own 


124  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

affair.  It  is  and  ever  was  difficult  to  get  along  with 
sister  by  the  practice  of  constant  prudence.  It  will  be 
impossible  if  either  you  or  I  interfere  in  this  or  any 
other  of  her  affairs." 

About  a  week  after  the  visit  of  Alice  this  family 
gave  a  party.  There  was  nothing  unusual  except  that 
Guthrie's  deportment  during  the  whole  evening  was 
serious.  He  did  not  speak  once  to  Miss  Jewell.  This 
change  was  obliged  to  be  noticed,  especially  as  several 
times  he  was  quite  near  her.  In  her  manner  also  was 
not  the  gayety  nor  even  the  self-possession  that  were 
habitual.  She  seemed  to  prefer  the  society  of  the  elder- 
ly ladies,  as  if  she  was  trying  to  recover  something  that 
she  feared  she  had  lost  or  to  secure  what  she  believed 
herself  in  some  danger  of  losing.  When  asked  to  play, 
her  pieces  were  such  as  she  supposed  might  be  most 
pleasing  to  them,  and  she  refused  Tolly's  request,  made 
more  than  once,  for  those  of  another  kind,  her  plea  be- 
ing that  she  was  not  in  correspondent  mood.  In  this 
while  Guthrie  kept  his  back  toward  her,  and  what  chat- 
ting he  did  was  with  Alice  or  other  married  women. 
Once  during  the  evening,  while  passing  by  Alice,  she 
saluted  her  with  some  hesitation.  Alice  returned  the 
salutation  with  politeness  and  nothing  more.  When 
near  the  breaking  up,  Tolly  asked  if  he  might  be  her 
escort  home,  she  answered  : 

"  No,  thank  you,  Mr.  Tolly.  I  am  going  with  Cousin 
William." 

"  I  haven't  seen  you  since  tlte  picnic." 

"  No ;  I  wanted  to  see  you  after  you  had  left  to  tell 
you  something.  On  reflection,  I  was  glad  you  were 
called  away  and  I  didn't." 


AT  THE  MACFARLANES.  125 

All  this  was  said  in  a  low  voice,  as  the  following 
also : 

"  Won't  you  tell  me  now  ? " 

"  No,  nor  ever.  It's  of  no  importance  to  you,  and 
telling  it  would  do  more  harm  than  good." 

When  all  were  gone  some  family  commentings  were 
had. 

"  Young  Tolly  looked  well  to-night,  Louisa,'"  said 
Mr.  Macfarlane. 

"  Yes.  I  was  much  pleased  with  his  manners.  He 
knows  well  how  to  act  toward  a  hostess,  and  to  be  con- 
siderate of  elderly  and  plain  women.  He  moves  in  com- 
pany with  the  more  ease  because  he  makes  no  special 
effort,  and  then  he  talks  as  if  what  he  was  saying  he 
neither  expected  nor  wished  to  be  regarded  as  of  any 
more  importance  than  it  is  in  point  of  fact." 

"  I  like  the  fellow's  simple  manliness.  He  carries  a 
level  head  upon  his  shoulders,  and  looks  like  one  who 
is  willing  to  wait  for  fortune  because  he  expects  it  with 
confidence.  They  tell  me  that  his  law  practice  is  im- 
proving constantly,  and  has  already  gone  ahead  of  Dun- 
can's. Duncan  won't  like  him  for  that.  By  the  way, 
Charlotte,  what  was  the  matter  with  him  and  Mi>s 
Jewell  to-night  ?  If  they  even  spoke  to  each  other,  I 
don't  know  it.  Whenever  I  have  seen  them  together 
heretofore,  he  seemed  very  devoted  ;  more  so,  I  thought, 
than  a  married  man  ought  to  be.  Miss  Jewell  also 
looked,  not  as  serious  as  he  did,  but  more  staid  than 
usual.     Have  they  fallen  out  ?  " 

"It  looks  so,  father,  but  I'm  confident  that  nothing 
very  serious  has  taken  place.  Alice  seemed  rather  wor- 
ried by  Cousin  Duncan's  neglect  of  her  at  the  picnic  a 


126  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

■week  ago,  and  I  was  glad  that,  as  I  believe,  Miss  Jewell 
noticed  it.  I  asked  her  to-night  why  she  was  so  re- 
served, and  she  answered  that  she  had  some  reason,  but 
could  not  then  tell  me  what  it  was.  I  am  a  little  afraid 
that  Cousin  Duncan  was  more  pronounced  in  his  ad- 
miration for  her  that  day  than  was  becoming.  I  never 
saw  him  so  gay  and  so  overflowing." 

"  You  suspect,  then,  that  she  is  shying  off  from 
him  2 " 

"  Indeed,  I  do,  father." 

"  Good !  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  I  don't  know  all 
about  Duncan  Guthrie.  Sometimes  I  suspect  from  his 
very  audacity  that  he's  a  little  cracked,  and  his  poor 
mother  has  always  acted  as  if  she  wanted  him  to  be  so ; 
but  I  know  enough  to  feel  sure  that  no  such  woman  as 
Miss  Jewell  can  be  entirely  safe  in  accepting  his  gush- 
ing services.  I  wish  she  had  discouraged  them  sooner ; 
for  there  is  some  little  talk  about  her  and  Duncan  al- 
readj7,  and  that,  if  continued,  would  injure  the  school, 
and,  what  would  be  worse,  hurt  herself." 

"  Miss  Jewell,  father,  has  been  used  to  society  that, 
in  some  respects,  is  more  free  than  ours  or  than  that  of 
any  rural  community.  I  think  that  she  has  become  as- 
sured, at  last,  of  this  fact,  and  has  made  up  her  mind  to 
conform  to  requirements  to  which  she  has  not  been  ac- 
customed, especially  as  she  is  among  those  who  are  com- 
paratively strangers  to  her." 

"  I  wish,"  said  Mrs.  Macfarlane,  "  that  she  had  come 
to  that  decision  sooner;  for  everybody  except  her 
knows  that  Duncan  is  imprudent  to  a  degree  that  some- 
times amounts  to  recklessness." 

"The  difficulty  is,"  pleaded  Charlotte,  "that  she 


AT  THE  MACFARLANES.  127 

hadn't  been  in  Clarke  long  enough  to  understand  Cousin 
Duncan  as,  from  what  father  intimates,  I  am  afraid  he 
is,  or  to  know  how  he  is  regarded  by  people  whose  good 
opinions  it  is  most  worth  her  while  to  secure.  I  could 
not  warn  her,-becawse  it  would  have  seemed  not  quite 
loyal  to  my  own  family  connections,  and  might  have 
looked  as  if  I  were  distrustful  of  her  ability,  as  I  have 
been  and  now  am  not,  to  take  care  of  herself.  I  think 
that  day's  experience  has  taught  them  both  a  lesson. 
She  did  not  need  it  near  as  much  as  Cousin  Duncan, 
for  I  do  believe  her  to  be  as  honorable  a  woman  as  I 
ever  saw.  She  admits  that  she  likes  the  society  of  gen- 
tlemen, and  she  does  so  in  a  way  to  convince  anybody 
of  her  unsuspicious  innocence." 

"  That's  right,  Charlotte.  Defend  whomsoever  you 
know  or  believe  to  be  guiltless.  Society  in  this  region 
has  become  more  exacting  than  it  used  to  be,  especially 
in  the  case  of  women.  Your  mother,  as  well  as  I,  re- 
members the  greater  freedom  that  was  once  allowed. 
Thirty  years  ago  waltzing  was  as  common  almost  as 
dancing,  and  card-playing  as  common  as  checkers.  I 
never  knew  any  special  harm  to  come  from  such 
license ;  but  the  religious  denominations,  in  their  zeal 
each  to  get  ahead  of  the  rest,  have  induced  conditions 
that  women  especially,  for  their  own  safety,  are  obliged 
to  conform  to.  Duncan  knows  that  as  well  as  anybody  ; 
but  he  thinks  that  he  can  aiford  to  be  an  outlaw  strong 
enough  to  protect  any  who  will  belong  to  his  following. 
Poor  fellow  !  He  is  doing  less  for  himself  than  I  had 
hoped  when  he  first  went  to  the  bar.  His  father's 
death  was  a  grievous  loss  to  him.  There  was  one  of 
the  justest  and  most  discreet  men  that  I  ever  knew. 


128  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

But  what  is  to  be  expected  of  a  young  man  so  selfish  as 
to  be  willing  to  accept  the  open,  avowed  preference  of 
his  mother  over  his  own  sister,  who  is  worth  a  dozen  of 
him?  I  declare  it  pains  me  every  time  I  think  how 
Caroline  is  treated,  and  if  not  with  his  consent  without 
enough  of  dissent  to  amount  to  anything.  I  wish  lie  was 
half  the  man  that  John  Stapleton  is.  Just  here,  I  will 
say  something,  to  go  no  further.  I  don't  believe  that 
John  Stapleton,  careless,  good-natured  fellow  that  he 
seems,  is  going  to  submit  always  to  injustice  which  there 
is  no  word  so  fit  to  describe  as  shocking  ;  and  if  he  ever 
does  make  an  assault  upon  Alan  Guthrie's  will,  both  of 
them  will  see  sights  that  will  make  them  wish  they  had 
acted  differently,  whether  such  assault  be  made  good 
or  not.  At  least  Duncan  will.  I'm  not  so  sure  about 
Hester.  What  effect  do  you  think,  Louisa,  that  chal- 
lenge to  public  investigation  would  have  upon  her  ? " 

"  None,  husband,  but  to  rouse  her  anger  and  con- 
firm her  opinions  that  she  has  been  doing  right,  Poor 
sister !  I  hardly  know  what  to  think  about  her.  I 
never  knew  her  to  admit  that  she  believed  herself  to 
be  in  the  wrong.  She  would  be  for  fighting  till  the 
last?' 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed  !  She's  got  the  pluck  of  a  whole 
army  of  veteran  soldiers.  Well,  I  shall  not  volunteer 
advice  to  her  any  more,  much  as  I  think  she  needs  it. 
I  did  once  get  her  to  offer  them  a  little  more  property, 
but  she  insisted  upon  settling  it  in  a  way  that  Stapleton 
would  not  and  could  not  accept.  No  man  that  is  a  man 
would  consent  to  be  made  an  exception  which  would 
lessen  his  standing  among  other  men.1' 

"  And  women  too." 


AT  THE   MACPARLANES.  129 

li  Yes,"  and  women  too.  If  the  law  should  ever  be 
60  modified  as  to  secure  all  married  women's  property 
alike,  such  things  would  be  tolerable  because  general. 
13ut  Caroline  was  right  in  refusing  to  accept  this  offer ; 
for  she  did  it  herself  without  waiting  to  ask  her  hus- 
band's views.  My  opinion  of  him,  who  has  been  grow- 
ing upon  me  ever  since  he  came  into  the  family,  is  that 
he  is  as  manly  in  spirit  as  he  is  a  son  of  Anak  in  physi- 
cal size  and  strength,  and  that  if  he  ever  makes  up  his 
mind  to  fight,  he'll  do  it  with  a  vigor  and  tenacity  that 
will  surprise  even  Hester.  To  think  that  they  now 
have  two  children  and  have  to  econom —  Look  here, 
Louisa,  has  Hester  been  down  there  since  this  last  baby 
was  born  % " 

"  No,  I'm  sorry  to  say.  Alice  told  me  to-night  that 
she  had  not.  I'd  go  there  myself,  but  I  know  that  my 
going  before  her  would  provoke  her." 

"  It's  a  crying  shame !  But  I  won't  talk  about  it 
any  more  to-night,  and  I'm  sorry  I  got  upon  the  sub- 
ject. Yes,  Tolly  is  a  good  fellow,  I  think,  and  Miss 
Jewell  is  certainly  as  good-looking  a  woman  as  I  should 
ever  wish  to  see.  Perhaps  they  may  make  a  match  of 
it,  eh,  Charlotte  ?  " 

But  Charlotte  had  risen  and  was  lighting  her  candle. 

"  Yes,"  said  her  father,  "  I  think  it's  high  time  to 
go  to  bed.     I'm  off  too." 


130  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

CHAPTER  XV. 

MRS.    GUTHRIE    GOES    TO    LITTLE    RIVER. 

Alice  went  home  and  afterward  to  bed  with  a  sense 
of  varied  uneasiness.  The  sight  of  Miss  Jewell,  sub- 
dued so  far  below  her  usual  vivacity,  touched  her  with 
compassion,  and  she  almost  wished  that  she  had  met  her 
advance  with  less  coldness.  It  imparted  a  genuine  grief 
that  she  could  have  been  so  far  led  away  as  to  conceive 
for  a  married  man  an  unlawful  feeling,  and  she  sin- 
cerely hoped  that  if  Guthrie  was  not  mistaken  in  his 
suspicion  his  withdrawal  from  her  society  would  re- 
store her  freedom  of  heart  and  lead  her  to  a  perfect 
sense  of  duty.  Eestless,  beset  with  troublous  dreams 
through  the  night,  she  was  awakened  before  the  dawn 
by  the  opening  and  closing  of  the  front  gate  and  the 
feet  of  a  galloping  horse.  Roused  by  her,  Guthrie  rose, 
and  as  the  rider  called  aloud  from  the  ground  below 
their  bedroom  window,  raised  the  sash  and  asked  : 

"  Who  is  there  ? " 

"  Simon,  sir,  Marse  Jack  Stapleton's  man.  Marster 
sent  me  up  in  a  hurry  to  tell  Miss  Alice,  Miss  Calline 
vay  sick,  an'  him  an'  Miss  Calline  bof  e  un  'em,  want  her 
to  come  down  dar  quick  as  she  can  git  dar." 

"  Alice,  a  messenger  from  Stapleton  says — " 

"  I  heard,"  answered  Alice,  rising  and,  dim  as  the 
light  was,  beginning  to  dress,  herself.  "  Duncan,  please 
call  to  Marcus  to  get  the  carryall  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  tell  Martha  to  make  a  pot  of  coffee  for  me  and 
him." 


MRS.  GUTHRIE  GOES  TO  LITTLE  RIVER.       131 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  I  wouldn't  go  there  in  that  way,  nor 
before  I  had  got  my  breakfast.  The  case  can't  be  so 
urgent  as  all  that." 

"  I  must  go,  Duncan  ;  please,  don't  hinder  me.  Sis- 
ter Caroline  needs  me,  and  that  is  the  way  to  get  there 
soonest.  If  you  feel  like  going,  you  can  drive  me  in- 
stead of  Marcus." 

"  Of  course  I  shall  go  if  it  becomes  necessary  ;  but 
I  think  I'd  better  wait,  if  you  insist  upon  starting  im- 
mediately, and  know  of  mother  what  she  wants  done." 

Alice  called  to  the  messenger,  and  said  : 

"  Simon,  tell  your  master  that  I  am  coming  at 
once." 

"  Yes'm,  mistess,  Marse  Jacky  told  me  to  git  de 
word,  en  den  gallop  to  old  miss  en  k'yar  de  news  to 
her." 

"  That's  right ;  go  on  and  do  so." 

When  Alice  was  gone  Guthrie  hastened  to  his 
mother's.  lie  found  her,  although  not  fully  dressed, 
striding  about  the  house  issuing  orders  in  loud,  harsh 
language. 

"  You  Moses,  I  wish  you'd  come  to  me  sooner,  sir, 
when  I  send  word  that  I  want  you  right  away." 

"Yes'm,  miss,  at  de  minute  Judy  give  me  de 
word — " 

"  Stop  it !  You  go  and  feed  and  curry  the  carriage 
horses,  and  while  they're  eating  do  you  get  out  the 
carriage  and  give  it  a  good  greasing ;  and  after  you've 
got  a  bite  of  breakfast  yourself,  do  you  hitch  up  and 
bring  out ;  and  mind  you  put  some  corn  in  a  bag  to 
take  under  your  seat  and  strap  on  behind  some  fodder. 
OfiE  with  you.     You  going  to  stand  there  all  day  like  a 


132  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

fool  looking  at  me  ?  You  Chloe !  Come  to  that 
kitchen  door.  When  you've  got  my  breakfast,  give 
Moses  some  coffee  and  wrap  him  up  something — 
enough  to  last  him  all  day.  Give  him  a  plenty.  You 
know  what  that  negro's  appetite  is,  do  you  hear  ?  " 

"Yes'm.  Law,  miss!  Mose  know  he  ain'  never 
gwine  suffer  for  plenty  t'  eat,  nor  nobody  else  ner  no 
nother  creetur  on  dis  place." 

"  And  lookee  here,  now ;  I  want  my  breakfast  quick, 
and  I  don't  want  it  burnt  up.  You  may  put  a  tea- 
spoonful  more  of  coffee  than  common  in  the  pot.  You 
Judy!" 

The  girl  was  standing  by  her  side. 

"  Ah,  here  you  are.  Get  out  my  second-best  travel- 
ing-gown, and  fetch  it  to  me.  I'll  put  it  on  here,  or 
wherever  you  find  me,  and  then  you  lock  up  all  my 
drawers  and  bring  me  the  keys.  Ah,  here's  Duncan  ! 
Come  in,  my  son,  come  right  along  in.  I'll  have  on 
my  gown  as  soon  as  Judy  fetches  it.  Here  it  is  now, 
Fix  it  on  me  quick,  and  don't  be  awkward  and  fumbling 
about  it.  O  Duncan,  didn't  I  know  trouble  Avas  going 
to  come,  and  haven't  I  been  prophesying  it  ever 
since  she  married  that  man?  And  to  think  that  I  had 
to  be  waked  up  just  after  I  had  got  into  a  little  bit 
of  a  nap  of  sleep  by  that  negro  bawling  out,  that  if  it 
was  the  last  word  I  had  to  speak  I  thought  the  house 
was  afire  and  not  much  chance  of  getting  out  of  it 
alive  !  When  I  got  up  and  got  my  senses,  I  gave  him 
a  caution  for  scaring  me  that- way.  He  said  he'd  been 
to  your  house,  and  I  was  just  going  to  send  word  to 
Alice  that  I'd  go  by  there  for  her,  and  not  have  the 
trouble  of  two  carriages." 


MRS.  GUTHRIE  GOES  TO  LITTLE  RIVER.       133 

"  Alice  lias  already  gone,  mother,  with  Marcus  in 
the  carryall.     I  couldn't  get  her  to  wait." 

"  What !  the  poor  child  went  without  her  breakfast? 
But  Alice  is  young.  You  don't  suppose  the  case  is 
that  bad,  do  you,  my  son  ?  I  declare  I  was  that  flur- 
ried and  flustered  I  forgot  to  ask  that  negro  what  was 
the  matter  until  he  had  done  gone.     Did  he  tell  you  ? " 

"  He  told  Alice  that  the  trouble  began  in  her  leg, 
and  had  gone  to  one  of  her  breasts." 

"  Humph,  humph !  I  know  exactly  what's  the 
matter.  She's  threatened  with  milk  fever  and  nothing 
hut  milk  fever.  I'm  glad  John  Stapleton  got  scared 
about  it  and  sent  for  me — without  he  done  it  just  to 
trouble  and  scare  me — because  I  know  what  to  do  with 
such  a  case,  and  no  doctor  does.  Alice  needn't  have 
gone  off  in  such  a  hurry,  knowing  no  more  what  to  do 
than  a  baby.  There's  no  danger  if  it's  managed  right. 
Are  you  going,  Duncan  ?  It  isn't  worth  while  without 
you  want  to.  I've  ordered  Moses  to  have  the  carriage 
ready  time  I  get  breakfast.  Everybody  knows  that  at 
my  time  of  life  /couldn't  start  on  such  a  travel  as  that 
without  my  breakfast,  and  there  isn't  any  need  of  it. 
But  if  you've  got  business,  my  son,  I  wouldn't  go. 
Your  going  wouldn't  be  of  any  earthly  good." 

"  Alice  seemed  to  think  I  ought  to  go,  and  I  told 
her  I  would.  Of  course  I  want  to  do  what  is  right  by 
Caroline." 

"  Everybody  knows  that,  Duncan,  not  excepting 
Alice,  if  she'd  stop  and  think  about  it.  Alice  is  head- 
strong, though  I  oughtn't  to  say  that  about  any  man's 
wife  and  in  his  presence.  But  if  I  was  in  your  place,  I 
shouldn't  be  breaking  off  from  my  business  and  rush- 


134  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

ing  down  there  when  there's  no  need  of  it ;  for  I  tell 
you  again  it's  nothing  but  milk  fever  the  poor  child's 
got,  and  I  know  what  to  do  with  that,  and  no  man  does, 
doctor  or  no  doctor.  I'll  send  you  word  if  you're 
wanted  for  anything.  You  Judy,  have  you  set  the 
table,  and  got  everything  ready  ?  Well,  go  out  and 
tell  Chloe  that  if  she  thinks  it's  going  to  take  her  all  day 
to  get  one  little  breakfast  for  one  lone  person,  I'll  go 
out  and  help  her.  ]STo,  you  needn't  tell  her  that,  as  the 
poor  thing  hasn't  had  time  enough,  and  I  know  she's 
doing  her  best ;  but  you  go  and  help  her  dish  up  and 
bring  in  what  she's  got,  and  tell  her  to  fry  a  chicken 
for  your  Marse  Duncan —  Or  would  you  rather  have 
it  broiled,  Duncan  ? " 

"  Any  way  will  suit  me,  mother,  if  you  think  I'd 
better  not  go." 

"  Tell  her  to  fry  it,  Judy,  and  get  up  a  nice  break- 
fast. She  needn't  be  in  such  a  great  hurry  about  that, 
as  your  Marse  Duncan  isn't  going.  Still,  I  reckon  she 
has  sense  enough  to  know  that  nobody  wants  to  wait 
too  long  after  they  are  dragged  out  of  bed  of  a  morn- 
ing before  they  can  get  something  on  their  stomach. 
Poor  Caroline  !  I  declare — to  think  of  what  she  could 
have  done,  instead  of  being  cooped  up  away  down 
there  on  Little  River  with  the  milk  fever !  It  makes 
me  cry !  "  She  stopped,  and  for  a  while  yielded  to 
lamentation.  "  I  don't  know  when  I've  cried  before ; 
but  I  feel  some  better  now  I've  done  it." 

She  ate  her  breakfast  in  haste,  yet  not  without  some 
heartiness  ;  for  she  knew  the  importance  of  fortifying 
herself  for  any  sort  of  undertaking  by  a  substantial 
morning  meal.     The  carriage  appeared  at  the  gate  as 


MRS.  GUTHRIE  GOES  TO  LITTLE  RIVER.       135 

she  was  giving  directions  about  what  was  to  be  done 
during  her  absence.  These  she  broke  away  from,  and 
when  she  was  seated  said  : 

"  Moses,  be  careful  driving  over  the  rough  places. 
The  Lord  knows  there's  many  a  one  of  them  which  is 
a  shame  to  the  very  county,  and  a  sin  to  boot.  If  I 
was  a  man  I  think  I  could  do  something  to  regulate 
such  things  better ;  but  you  do  the  best  you  can,  and 
when  you  come  to  a  smooth  stretch,  let  your  horses 
move  on.  There's  a  chance  to  water  them  between  here 
and  there,  ain't  there  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes'm,  Miss." 

"  Well,  drive  on.  To  think  a  woman  of  my  age, 
though  I'm  not  as  old  as  some,  but  to  think  that  with 
all  the  work  and  responsibilities  on  my  hands,  I  have 
to  be  dragged  away  from  it  in  this  kind  of  style,  and 
all  for  nothing  but  disobedience," 

The  carriage  moved  off.  At  every  jolt,  even  the 
lightest,  its  occupant  gave  a  groan ;  yet  she  said  noth- 
ing to  impede  the  coachman  who,  she  well  knew,  was 
to  be  trusted  entirely.  When  on  the  levels  she  urged 
him  mildly  to  make  what  haste  he  could  consistently 
with  due  regard  for  the  team.  Arrived  at  their  destina- 
tion, they  were  turned  through  the  open  gate  and,  trot- 
ting with  decent  speed,  were  drawn  up  at  the  opening 
of  the  simple  little  court.  Mrs.  Guthrie  descended  with 
deliberation,  her  face  wearing  an  air  of  lofty  honorable 
compromise,  betokening  that  its  wearer  was  bestowing 
much  and  getting  next  to  nothing. 


136  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

CHAPTER  XYI. 

MRS.    GUTHRIE   WITH    HER   DEAD. 

The  sun  was  not  more  than  half  an  hour  high  when 
Alice  arrived.  She  was  just  in  time  to  get  the  last  fare- 
well of  Caroline  Stapleton.  One  of  those  maladies 
that  are  peculiar  to  women  in  her  condition  which 
medical  skill  can  neither  foresee  nor  hinder  nor  even 
delay,  had  seized  upon  her  life.  She  had  time  to 
express  her  gratitude  for  another  sight  of  one  so  well 
loved  and  her  wishes  about  her  newly  born  child,  then, 
turning  her  eyes  back  upon  her  husband  who  was  kneel- 
ing by  her  side,  she  expired,  apparently  without  pain. 
One  cry  of  anguish  was  made  by  John  Stapleton  ;  then 
rising,  he  said  : 

"  Alice,  you  will  know  what  to  do.  If  Mrs.  Guthrie 
should  come,  I  would  prefer  not  to  meet  her,  at  least  to 
day,  unless  she  should  express  a  desire  to  see  me  about 
the  funeral.  In  that  event,  I  shall  be  within  Simon's 
call." 

Then  he  went  out. 

Two  hours  afterward  when  Mrs  Guthrie  had  alight- 
ed, the  girl  Clarissy  came  running  to  her  and  cried  : 

"  Law,  old  Miss !   Miss  Calline  done  dead !  " 

The  old  lady  looked  at  the  girl  fiercely,  and,  reach- 
ing forth  and  inserting  her  fingers  in  her  collar,  cried  : 

"  Nigger,  do  you  know  who  you're  fooling  with  ? 
My  strong  suspicion  is,  you  don't." 

The  negro,  screaming,  tore  herself  away  and  ran 
back  into  the  house,  her  assailant  following.     At  the 


MRS.  GUTHRIE  WITH   HER  DEAD.  137 

opening  of  the  passage  the  latter  was  met  by  Alice,  and, 
looking  at  her  with  yet  greater  ferocity,  she  said,  in 
tones  that  she  tried  in  vain  to  lower : 

"  Alice,  Alice  Guthrie !  tell  me,  tell  me,  tell  me 
that  that  nigger  has  told  me  a  lie !  Yon  know  how  the 
things  love  to  scare  people !  For  God  Almighty's  sake, 
say  so,  Alice  !  " 

"  0  mother,  would  that  I  could  !  Poor  dear  Sister 
Caroline  died  at  half -past  eight  o'clock !  " 

-My  God!" 

She  sank  into  a  chair,  breathing  as  if  she  had  been 
running  for  her  life. 

"  Sit  down  here  by  me,  Alice.  I  don't  think — I 
can't  think  you  would  go  that  far  with  me ;  and  then 
you  called  her  '  sister.'  May  be  it's  so,  as  that  fool  nig- 
ger said.     You're  certain  in  your  mind,  Alice?" 

"  Indeed,  yes,  mother — she  is  already  dressed  and 
laid  out  in  the  room  behind  you,  Avhere  she  died." 

"  In  this  room,  right  here,  behind  me  ?  " 

And  she  knocked  upon  the  wall  several  times  with 
the  back  of  her  hand. 

"  Yes,  mother." 

"  Yes  ?  "Well,  I  can't  go  in  there  yet.  Alice,  I  want 
to  ask  you  a  question,  and  I  tell  you  plain  that  I  don't 
want,  and  I  don't  think  it's  any  time  for  dodging  and 
fooling.  Can  you  tell  me  the  reason  why  they  didn't 
let  me  know  sooner  ?  Is  that  man— you  know  who  I 
mean — is  he  in  the  room  behind  there  ? " 

"  No,  mother.  Mr.  Stapleton  is  not  in  the  house. 
We  were  notified  as  soon  as  possible  after  the  attack 
was  found  to  be  serious.  Nothing  could  have  come 
more   unexpectedly.     "When   I   was  here  a  week  ago 


138  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

Sister  Caroline  was  never  more  bright  and  cheerful, 
and  Mr.  Stapleton  says  she  continued  so  until  yesterday 
evening." 

"Sister  Caroline !  Yes,  I  remember  you  always 
called  her  sister,  and  I  liked  it,  because  it  looked  well. 
Say,  John  Stapleton  ain't  in  there  ? " 

"  No,  mother.  He  went  out,  saying  we  could  send 
for  him  whenever  he  might  be  wanted." 

"  The  good  Lord  knows  /don't  want  him,  and  I  don't 
wonder  at  his  going  off  and  hiding  himself  when  he 
knew  I  was  coming.  It's  just  like  the  whole  set  of  such 
people.  Who  attended  to  the — to  the — you  know  what 
I  mean,  Alice." 

"  I  have  done  everything  that  was  necessary,  mother, 
with  such  help  as  was  at  hand." 

l<  Everything  that  was  necessary,"  she  repeated, 
looking  around  vaguely,  "everything  that  was  neces- 
sary. I'm  glad  you  done  it,  Alice ;  for  it  has  all  flus- 
tered me  so,  I'm  afraid  I  couldn't.  Those  vines  all  up 
and  along  there,  they  look  better  than  I  was  counting  on 
when  she  told  me  she'd  planted  them  there.  What's 
become  of  the  children,  Alice  ?  " 

"  The  baby  is  in  the  room  across  the  passage,  mother  ; 
Alan  is  with  his  father." 

"  Well,  is  any  chance,  is  anything  been  arranged  to 
keep  the  poor  little  thing  from  perishing  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am.  Our  Eliza  has  a  young  baby,  and 
gives  much  more  nourishment  than  it  needs.  I  have 
sent  for  her,  and  I'm  sure  Duncan  won't  object." 

"  Object  ?  Of  course  not,  not  for  nobody  in  such  a 
case.  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  Yes,  I  believe  Judy  did  tell 
me  a  week  or  so  ago  that  Eliza  had  another  baby ;  but 


MRS.  GUTHRIE  WITH  HER  DEAD.  139 

I  forgot  it  at  the  time.  That's  the  only  good  piece 
of  news  I've  heard  to-day.  Yes,  yes,  Eliza.  She's 
one  of  the  negroes  that  come  by  you.  A  rather  nice, 
good,  healthy,  clean  young  woman,  isn't  she  %  " 

"  A  very  excellent  woman,  mother,  and  perfectly 
healthy." 

"  Ah,  I'm  thankful  to  hear  it.  But  won't  somebody 
come  and  shoo  away  that  mocking-bird  in  that  bush  out 
there  ?  Of  course  I  know  the  thing  don't  know  any  bet- 
ter, but  I  declare  such  joyful,  unconcerned  singing  and 
screaming — but  I  see  it's  nest  of  young  ones  there 
among  the  vines.  Let  it  alone.  I'll  try  to  go  in  now 
if  you'll  help  me  to  get  up.  Will  you  promise  to  stand 
by  me,  Alice  ?  I  don't  know  when  I  have  been  so  flus- 
tered.    You'll  stand  by  me;  will  you,  Alice  \  " 

"  Certainly,  mother." 

Alice  assisted  her  to  rise.  As  she  held  out  her  hand 
the  piece  torn  from  the  girl's  collar  fell.  She  looked  at 
it  and  said  : 

"  How  in  this  world  did  I  come  by  that  rag  ?  I  feel 
right  foolish.  Ain't  you  sorry  for  anybody  that's  that 
foolish,  Alice  ?  I  know  I  am.  But  I  suppose  every- 
body is  liable  to  get  that  way  sometimes." 

She  entered  and  walked  with  studied  firmness  to  the 
table  on  which  the  body  was  laid.  When  Alice  re- 
moved the  handkerchief  from  the  face,  she  gave  a  mo- 
mentary glance,  then,  uttering  a  fearful  scream,  turned 
away,  and  reeling,  in  spite  of  the  eiforts  of  Alice  to  pre- 
vent, plunged  upon  the  bed  on  which  her  daughter  had 
died. 

"  O  Caroline,  Caroline  !  I  wish  I  had  never  been 
born  to  live  to  this  !  "  she  moaned  from  the  pillow  on 


140  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

which  her  face  was  half  buried.  "  I  never  could  see 
how  it  is  that  people  can  be  taken  away  out  of  this 
world  so  unexpected  !  O  Caroline  !  if  you  had  only 
loved  me !  Alice,  Alice  Guthrie,"  she  cried,  suddenly 
raising  herself,  supported  by  her  two  hands  upon  the 
edge  of  the  bed,  one  leg  beneath  her  and  the  other  ex- 
tended toward  the  floor,  her  clothes  in  sad  disorder, 
"  did  Caroline  leave  any  words  for  me  ?  If  she  did,  I 
want  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the 
truth,  so  help  you  God !  That's  the  way  they  tell  me 
they  swear  them  in  the  court  house.    Tell  me,  did  she  % " 

"  Yes,  mother.  She  asked  me  to  tell  you  and  Dim- 
can  that  she  had  always  loved  you  both  very  much. 
That  was  all  she  said  ;  she  had  no  time  to  say  any  more." 

"  And  did  the  child  know  she  was  going  to  die  when 
she  sent  me  that  message  ?  Come  now,  Alice.  If  there 
ever  was  a  time  that  I  didn't  want  to  be  fooled  with  it 
is  now,  and  I  beg — I  order  you — not  to  do  it." 

"  Her  mind,  mother,  was  perfectly  clear  and  per- 
fectly calm." 

"  I  tell  you,  child,  or  madam,  or  whatever  you  want 
yourself  called,  she  wasn't!  She  couldn't  have  been  in 
her  right  mind  to  leave  such  a  message  to  me  with  her 
dying  mouth !  " 

"  O  mother,  mother !  " 

"  Hush ! " 

Her  voice  and  her  face  were  terrific. 

Then  arose  from  a  chair  in  a  corner  of  the  room 
where  she  had  been  sittings  an  elderly  woman.  She 
was  clad  neatly  and  tastefully  in  simple  apparel.  Her 
face,  white  and  but  little  wrinkled,  gave  token  of  sweet- 
ness and  piety  which  had  enabled  her  to  become  re- 


MRS.  GUTHRIE   WITH   HER  DEAD.  141 

signed  to  whatever  losses  had  befallen  her.  She  moved 
softly  to  the  table,  with  a  hand  brushed  away  a  fly  that 
had  settled  upon  the  face  of  the  corpse,  and,  having 
placed  back  the  handkerchief,  was  turning  toward  the 
door,  when  Mrs.  Guthrie,  in  masculine  tone,  asked  : 

"  What  woman  is  that  ? " 

"  That  is  Mrs.  Stapleton,  Mr.  Stapleton's  mother." 

"  Ah  ha !  she's  here,  is  she  ? " 

"  Yes,  madam,"  answered  the  lady,  "  I  am  here,  and 
have  been  ever  since  shortly  after  dear  Caroline  was 
taken  sick." 

"And  she  calls  her  Caroline,  dear  Caroline^  and  I 
suppose  skdd  say  she  was  in  her  right  mind." 

"  Indeed  I  do,  madam." 

"  I  didn't  ask  you  for  your  opinion.  I  was  only 
supposing.  But  /say  again  she  wasn't !  As  you  seem 
to  be  talkative,  I'll  ask  you  to  tell  me  why  your  son 
didn't  send  me  word  sooner  that  that  child  stiffening 
on  that  table  there  was  sick  and  like  to  die?  Why 
didn't  he  ?  Tell  me  if  you  know,  and  if  you  don't  I'd 
like  to  have  your  opinion.  Now,  just  let  us  have  it  for 
the  curiosity  of  the  thing." 

"  The  only  reason  was,  madam,  that  not  before  late 
in  the  night  did  he  believe  that  there  was  any  serious 
danger  in  the  case." 

"  I  don't  believe  it !  He  didn't  want  me  to  know 
it,  because  he  didn't  want  me  here,  and  don't  now. 
What  was  the  matter  with  her?  Can  you  tell  me 
that  ? " 

"  Mrs.  Guthrie—" 

"  How  did  you  know  my  name  was  Guthrie  ?  I 
never  told  you,  nor  nobody  else,  that  I  know  of." 


142  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  I  knew  it,  madam,  and  I  answer  that  the  doctor 
said  that  it  was  her  heart  that  suddenly  failed." 

"  Her  heart !  He  said  that  because  he  knew  noth- 
ing about  it,  no  more  than  you  do.  They've  always  got 
some  names  to  say,  and  the  easiest  when  they're  most 
ignorant,  because  they  feel  that  they  must  say  some- 
thing. I  say  it  icasnH  her  heart.  If  it  was  anything, 
it  was  milk  fever ;  and  if  it  was,  and  if  I  had  been  sent 
for  as  soon  as  she  was  taken,  I'd  have  cured  her.  I  say, 
mind  me,  if  it  was  anything^ 

Her  face  looked  almost  fiendish  as  she  said  these 
last  words. 

"  Madam,"  said  Mrs.  Stapleton,  unruffled  as  before, 
"  I  have  no  idea  what  you  mean." 

"  I  didn't  suppose  that  you  did,  and  I  don't  care  if 
you  didn't.  John  Stapleton  might  know ;  but  he's  out 
of  the  way,  it  seems." 

"  You  can  see  him,  madam,  if  you  wish.  He  is  not 
far  off,  and  before  leaving  he  gave  orders  to  be  called 
if  you  asked  for  him.     I  will  send  for  him  at  once." 

She  started  out,  but  Mrs.  Guthrie  rose,  and,  smooth- 
ing her  gown,  said  : 

"  ISTot  worth  while.  You  needn't  trouble  yourself. 
I  wouldn't  speak  to  him  if  he  was  here." 

"  As  you  please,  ma'am,"  replied  Mrs.  Stapleton,  and 
left  the  room. 

"  Alice,"  said  Mrs.  Guthrie,  "  it  would  just  kill  me 
to  stay  in  this  house  much  longer.  It  has  nearly  done 
it  now.  Tell  that  negro  girl  or  somebody  to  tell  Moses 
to  bring  the  carriage  back,  right  straight." 

Alice  went  out,  returning  in  a  few  minutes.  Sev- 
eral times  during  her  absence  the  mother  took  a  step 


MRS.   GUTHRIE  WITH  HER  DEAD.  143 

toward  the  table  and  recoiled.  "When  Alice  returned 
she  was  again  upon  the  bed,  anguishing  with  piteous 
lamentation,  although  no  tears  were  in  her  eyes. 

"  Alice,"  rising,  she  said,  "  when  you  was  gone,  I 
tried  to  look — to  look  at  it.  But  I  couldn't.  I'll  go 
home  and  send  Duncan.  I'd  better  go,  anyhow.  If  I 
was  to  lay  my  eyes  on  John  Stapleton  I  might  say 
things  that  better  not  be  said.  You  and  that  old  wo- 
man will  have  to  attend  to  everything.  No  doubt 
Charlotte  will  come  down  too  when  she  hears  of  it. 
I'll  try  to  be  at  the  burying  if  I'm  alive,  and  if  I'm  not, 
it  won't  make  any  difference.  I'm  glad  that  poor  baby 
can  be  taken  care  of.  There's  that  much  good  in  all 
this  distraction.     O  my  Lord  !     I've  got  to  go!" 

She  tottered  to  the  door,  turned,  looked  once  more 
toward  the  table,  took  one  step,  then  covering  her  face 
with  both  her  hands,  screamed  : 

"  I  can't !  " 

Rushing  out  of  the  house,  she  called  loudly  to  her 
coachman,  and  as  soon  as  he  came,  re-entered  the  car- 
riage and  was  gone. 

Painfully  shocked  by  the  news  brought  by  his 
mother,  Guthrie  hastily  repaired  to  the  place  of  mourn- 
ing. He  had  never  been  hostile  to  his  sister,  although 
he  had  been  brought  up  with  the  idea  that  she  had  been 
the  favorite  of  his  father,  and  that  nothing  but  the  affec- 
tion and  tact  of  his  mother  had  prevented  his  being  cut 
off  from  a  fair  portion  of  his  estate.  Addicted  as  he  was 
to  self-indulgence,  ambitious  of  influence  and  state,  he 
was  neither  mean  nor  vindictive.  He  was  not  without 
some  sense  of  shame  for  his  mother's  undisguised  inor- 
dinate partiality ;   and  although  he  was  content,  and 


144  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

perhaps  believed  himself  to  be  entitled  justly  to  much 
more  than  upon  equal  partition  would  have  been  his 
portion,  yet  he  had  wished,  as  has  been  seen,  that  Mrs. 
Stapleton  could  live  more  liberally,  and  that  from  some 
sense  of  justice  as  well  as  for  hushing  the  commentings 
of  people  on  the  difference  between  her  establishment 
and  his  own.  John  Stapleton  he  liked  well  in  all  respects 
except  as  a  brother-in-law,  and  he  treated  him  accord- 
ingly. Stapleton  always  had  seemed  as  if  he  was  satis- 
fied with  the  terms  on  winch  he  had  been  put,  and  he 
would  chat  with  him  about  crops,  politics,  fox-hunting, 
and  other  topics  whenever  they  happened  to  be  thrown 
together,  just  as  he  did  with  others  of  his  acquaintance. 
lie  would  have  been  respected  more  by  Guthrie  if  he 
had  shown  some  coldness  at  least  in  the  absence  of  re- 
sentment. As  it  was,  Guthrie's  feelings  toward  him 
were  made  up  of  indifference  and  contempt,  some  of 
which  extended  to  his  wife.  When  she  died  so  unex- 
pectedly after  having  lived  in  comparatively  humble 
conditions,  and  with  what  he  regarded  as  a  poor  married 
experience,  he  felt  sorry  for  her,  and  was  rather  pleased 
than  not  when  told  by  Alice  that  the  baby  had  been 
consigned  by  its  mother  to  her  care  until  other  arrange- 
ments could  be  made  in  that  behalf.  The  heartiness 
with  which  he  consented  pleased  himself  much,  and  it 
enabled  him  to  look  with  calmness  upon  his  dead  sister's 
face  and  offer  to  the  surviving  husband  as  many  words 
of  condolence  as  he  thought  he  deserved  to  get  from  him. 
The  body,  as  she  had  requested,  was  buried  in  the 
Stapleton  graveyard.  The  deceased  had  united  herself 
with  the  Baptists,  in  whose  faith  her  husband,  though 
not  a  church  member,  believed.     The  funeral  sermon 


MRS.  GUTHRIE  WITH  nER  DEAD.  145 

was  postponed  for  a  month  on  account  of  the  absence 
of  the  pastor  and  his  engagement  for  similar  service  on 
the  next  three  Sundays.  Mrs.  Guthrie  was  at  the  burial. 
Clad  in  deep  black  she  stood  at  the  head  of  the  grave, 
watched  with  close  scrutiny  every  action  of  the  under- 
taker and  the  friends  who  assisted  ;  and  when  it  was 
over,  without  a  word  to  any  one  present  except  her 
son,  left  the  ground  and  was  driven  home. 

"  Are  you  going  down  to  hear  Mr.  Marston's  sermon 
on  Caroline,  mother  ?  "  asked  Alice  the  evening  before 
the  day  set  for  its  delivery. 

"  No,  Alice  ;  no,  child.  I've  been  through  already 
more  than  I  had  any  idea  I  could  go  through  with,  and 
to  have  to  listen  to  that  preacher  hinting  his  hints  about 
me,  and  be  stared  at  by  all  those  Baptists  is  more  than 
I  think  I  ought,  at  my  time  of  life,  to  be  expected  to 
stand." 

It  seemed  a  pity  she  was  not  there.  The  meeting- 
house stood  on  the  first  rise  from  the  river.  A  large 
congregation  assembled.  The  woods  were  already  in 
the  full  green  of  early  summer  ;  the  air  was  full  of 
freshness.  In  the  shady  grove  the  neighings  of  hun- 
dreds of  horses  answered  to  the  chatterings  of  as  many 
birds  in  the  tree-tops.  Inside  the  house  the  smells  from 
gowns  and  other  vestments  modestly  bedecked  with 
flowers,  the  healthful  sheen  upon  all  cheeks  save  the 
very  oldest,  the  peacefulness,  the  solemnity,  the  absence 
both  of  indifference  and  ostentatious  sympathy,  all  made 
occasion  for  a  fit  discourse  by  a  good  man  gifted  with 
ability  to  improve  it.  The  preacher,  a  portly  man  of 
fifty,  although  mainly  self-educated,  was  an  acknowl- 
edged leader  of  his  denomination  throughout  an  exten- 
10 


146  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

sive  surrounding  region.  He  made  no  direct  allusion 
to  the  Guthrie  family,  but  dwelt  at  length  and  with 
much  tenderness  upon  the  simple,  virtuous  life  led  by 
the  departed,  and  the  fact  that  the  summons  coming  to 
her  suddenly  had  not  found  her  unprepared.  Once  he 
did  speak  of  the  sweetness  with  which  she  had  endured 
some  trials  of  a  peculiar  kind  which  her  childhood  and 
young  womanhood  had  been  such  as  to  prevent  her 
from  expecting  ;  yet  he  was  fain  to  believe  that  such 
endurance  had  added  to  the  felicity  of  her  earthly  life 
instead  of  subtracting  from  it,  and  rendered  her  more  fit 
for  that  to  which  she  had  risen.  Many  a  tear  was  shed 
by  those  who  in  their  hearts  pitied  all  sufferers,  even 
the  obdurate,  strange  old  woman  whose  mouth,  if  it 
had  been  there  and  had  spoken,  could  have  told  of  an 
anguish  that,  however  resentful,  was  deeper  and  sharper 
than  that  of  all  the  rest. 

Stapleton  placed  Alan  at  his  mother's  and  went  back 
to  his  home  alone. 


CHAPTEK  XVII. 

MR.    BOND  IS    RETAINED. 

If  Caroline  Stapleton  had  not  died  it  is  hardly  prob- 
able that  her  husband  ever  would  have  concerned  himself 
about  the  estate  left  by  her  father,  at  least,  to  the  degree 
of  attempting  by  legal  process  to  obtain  a  greater  por- 
tion of  it  than  already  had  been  received.  It  is  true  that 
sometimes  he  had  been  made  to  feel  uncomfortable  by 
the  remonstrances  of  his  friends,  the  most  persistent  of 


MR.  BOND  IS  RETAINED.  147 

whom  was  Peterson  Braddy,  whom  he  warmly  loved. 
That  gentleman  ever  since  the  marriage,  at  every  oppor- 
tunity that  was  presented,  and  many  others  improvised 
by  himself,  had  counselled,  urged,  scolded,  denounced, 
and  even  employed  several  unique  forms  of  imprecation 
to  induce  or  to  drive  him  to  such  endeavors  as  he  believed 
it  was  due  to  his  family  if  not  to  himself  to  exert.  In 
all  this,  as  Stapleton  well  knew,  he  was  not  actuated  to 
any  degree  by  resentment  toward  Duncan  Guthrie,  but 
by  affection  toward  himself  and  his  sense  of  justice. 

"  I  didn't  know  it  was  in  me  to  cry  any  more,"* said 
Peter,  "  but  I  had  to  let  her  run  when  Jack's  wife  died, 
and  everything  went  scattering  exceptin'  of  him,  poor 
fellow,  by  his  lone  self,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  that  cuss- 
in'  come  in  so  handy,  thinkin'  about  how  him  and  his 
wife  and  children  has  been  treated  by  that  old  woman, 
and  Dunk  a-layin'  around  and  a-lookin'  on,  and  not  a- 
tryin'  to  hender  it — fact  is,  I'm  glad  I  learned  how  to 
cuss,  if  no  more  than  for  jes'  my  own  satisfaction,  I  be 
dogamighty  doggoned  my  skin,  to  dogamighty  doggon- 
ation  if  I  ain't." 

Having  married  out  of  affection  alone,  Stapleton 
and  his  wife,  both  believing,  from  the  warning  of  Mrs. 
Guthrie  beforehand,  that  they  were  to  expect  nothing 
from  her  to  whom  they  supposed  that  everything  be- 
longed, they  had  been  content  with  each  other,  and 
happy.  When  led  to  suspect  that  the  injustice  done 
might  be  redressed,  yet,  averse  both  to  notoriety  and  to 
strife,  he  hardly  had  given  a  serious  thought  to  the 
subject  of  a  resort  to  the  courts. 

But  now  a  great  change  had  come,  one  the  thought 
of  which  when  not  bemoaning  his  own  loss  led  to  self- 


148  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

reproaching  that  during  his  wife's  lifetime  he  had  not 
stood  firmly  for  what  he  had  become  convinced  were 
her  rights.  In  the  behavior  of  Mrs.  Guthrie  at  her 
death,  while  he  sufficiently  understood  the  struggles  of 
such  a  spirit  against  accusing  itself  for  its  neglect,  yet 
his  own  resentment  was  kindled,  both  on  his  own  ac- 
count and  for  the  insult  thus  put  upon  the  memory  of 
his  wife.  Above  even  these  were  considerations  of  his 
children,  between  whom,  and  their  grandmother  there 
had  been  never  anything  that  savored  either  of  affection 
or  relationship.  Indeed,  he  felt,  now  for  the  first  time 
with  bitterness,  that  she  hated  them  because  of  their 
consanguinity  with  himself.  These  children,  so  young 
and  helpless,  seemed  to  appeal  to  him,  their  only  de- 
fender, to  do  what  he  could  in  order  to  obtain  for  them 
whatever,  if  anything,  had  been  withheld. 

One  thing  stood  in  his  way,  at  least  temporarily — 
the  affection  had  by  his  wife  for  Alice,  which  had  led  to 
the  consignment  of  the  baby  to  her  care.  "Well  he 
knew  that  Alice  would  rejoice  to  see  both  children  come 
into  possession  of  all  their  hereditary  rights.  But  he 
reflected  that  Duncan  must  and  would  side  with  his 
mother  in  any  issue  that  might  be  made.  One  night, 
while  in  the  midst  of  a  conflict  of  many  thoughts,  he 
decided  that  on  the  next  day  he  would  go  to  Clarke  and 
consult  with  Thomas  Tolly. 

Two  weeks  afterward,  as  Miss  Jewell  was  sitting  in 
the  piazza  at  the  Wendells'  just  before  sunset,  she  was  sur- 
prised to  see  Bond  driving  by  in  his  sulky.  He  raised 
his  hat  as  he  passed,  but  did  not  stop  until  arriving  at 
Jnnkin's.  Guthrie,  who  was  closing  his  office  just  as 
he  entered  upon  the  public  square,  guessed  that  he  had 


MR.  BOND  IS  RETAINED.  14i) 

come  to  see  Miss  Jewell ;  for  the  sight  of  his  deport- 
ment toward  her  during  the  time  when  these  two  were 
together  alone  at  the  parties  during  court  week,  had 
convinced  him  that  Bond  would  like  to  marry  her.  He 
was  pleased  with  the  thought  now,  although  in  a  not 
very  sarcastic  way  he  had  ridiculed  him  in  her  hearing. 
Now  he  really  hoped  that  she  would  marry  him,  or  in 
some  other  manner  be  got  away. 

As  is  known  to  most  persons  who  are  at  all  familiar 
with  judicial  proceedings,  there  are  two  ways  of  prov- 
ing a  last  will  and  testament ;  one  in  common  form,  by 
the  oaths  of  the  executor  and  one  of  the  witnesses. 
This  is  done  when  the  ordinary  has  no  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  the  paper  will  be  contested  by  any  who  would 
have  inherited  had  the  testator  died  intestate,  and  is  un- 
derstood neither  to  prejudice  their  right  afterward  to 
demand  probate  in  solemn  form  (in  the  law  named  per 
testes) — that  is,  by  all  the  witnesses,  after  due  notice 
given  to  all  the  heirs  at  law.  The  will  of  Alan  Guth- 
rie had  been  probated  after  the  first  form  by  the  oaths 
of  the  executrix  and  the  lawyer  who  had  drawn  it. 
This  man,  Suttle  by  name,  a  year  or  two  afterward  had 
removed  to  the  State  of  Louisiana.  The  witness  Braddy, 
Peterson's  father,  had  deceased,  and  the  whereabout  of 
the  other,  if  indeed  he  yet  lived,  was  not  known  to 
any  in  the  community.  Tolly  had  notified  Bond  of  his 
intention  to  institute  legal  proceedings,  and  requested 
him  to  come  to  Clarke  for  the  purpose  of  taking  to- 
gether a  preliminary  study  of  the  bearings  of  the  suit. 

"  I  feel  in  good  trim  for  this  fight,"  said  Bond,  when, 
after  supper  and  a  visit  of  an  hour  to  Miss  Jewell,  he 
had  repaired  to  Tolly's  room.     "  Do  you  know,  sir,  that 


150  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

I  was  about  to  begin  on  a  travel  to  this  borough  when 
your  letter  came  ?  " 

"  Aye  ?  That  looks  promising.  I  had  made  up  my 
mind  that  you  had  an  attraction  here  stronger  than  any 
law  matters  could  impart,  and  I  am  glad  to  believe  that 
it  has  put  you  in  such  case  for  our  joint  work.  You're 
going  to  tell  me  all  about  it  ? " 

"  Yes.  "What  there  is  to  tell.  It  is  not  precisely  as 
I  see  you  suspect  from  the  promptness  with  which  you 
congratulate  me.  However,  I'll  let  you  into  a  thing  or 
two  after  we've  talked  over  our  case.  I  was  glad  for 
his  sake,  as  well  as  yours  and  mine,  to  hear  that  the 
man  (Stapleton,  I  believe  you  said  his  name  was)  had  de- 
cided to  move  in  behalf  of  his  rights,  although  I  was 
very  sorry  to  hear  of  the  death  of  the  poor  fellow's 
wife.  It's  a  pity  he  didn't  take  action  during  her  life- 
time. What  sort  of  a  man  was  that  lawyer,  Suttle,  and 
do  you  know  whether  or  not  he  is  still  living  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  he  is  alive  or  not.  He  was  a 
poor  pettifogger,  I've  been  told,  and  made  a  scant  living 
by  undertaking  such  work  as  men  of  respectable  standing 
would  refuse.  He  went  from  here  to  Louisiana.  I've 
never  mentioned  the  subject  to  Mr.  Jamison,  but  Braddy, 
our  client's  most  active  friend,  says  that  his  father,  who 
was  one  of  the  witnesses  to  the  will,  told  him  that  Mr. 
Guthrie  first  applied  to  Mr.  Jamison  to  write  it,  and 
that  he  put  him  off  because  he  did  not  believe  that,  at 
the  time  of  his  application,  he  had  disposing  memo- 
ry. My  notion  is,  after  seeing  what  effect  will  be  pro- 
duced by  the  citation  to  probate  in  solemn  form — for 
it  may  induce  Guthrie  to  drive  his  mother  to  the  pro- 
posal of  a  settlement,  but  if  not — then  to  put  in  a  bill 


MR.   BOND  IS  RETAINED.  151 

in  equity,  a  resort  we'll  have  to  get  to  anyhow  event- 
ually." " 

"  She'd  swear  it  out  of  court ;  a  matter  of  course." 

"  I  don't  think  so.  My  opinion  of  the  old  lady  is 
that  she  is  as  truthful  as  she's  audacious.  She  has  the 
courage  of  Semiramis  or  Catharine  of  Russia.  What 
sJie  did,  if  anything  fraudulently,  she  is  just  the  woman 
to  maintain  that  she  had  a  right,  law  or  no  law,  to  do ; 
and  I  don't  believe  that  she  would  deny  any  action  of 
her  own,  at  least  under  oath.  Even  if  she  would, 
Guthrie  wouldn't  let  her.  If  he  should  suspect  such  a 
thing  and  foresee,  as  he  must,  that  we  would  assail  her 
veracity,  he  would  try  to  drive  her  into  a  compromise. 
The  citation  will  excite  him  intensely ;  for  he  well  knows 
the  feeling  in  the  county  about  the  way  his  sister  was 
treated,  and  that  a  special  jury  would  sift  the  case  of 
every  particle  of  chaff  before  they  would,  render  a  ver- 
dict against  these  little  children.  Guthrie  is  very  de- 
sirous of  popular  favor,  and  then  I  take  him  to  be  a 
man  of  his  word.  Besides,  he  has  inherited  his  mother's 
courage." 

"  You  think  so,  Tolly,  do  you  % "  the  other  asked, 
smiling.  "  So,  so-!  I  know  nothing  of  the  dam  in  the 
matter  of  such  characteristics ;  but,  judging  from  her 
whelp,  I  should  not  be  surprised  at  any  means  to  which 
she  would  resort  to  screen  her  evil  deeds  from  detection. 
However,  more  of  that  after  a  while." 

When  they  had  discussed  the  several  points  in  the 
case  and  those  likely  to  arise,  Bond  said : 

"  Well,  Tolly,  you  are  leading  counsel,  and,  as  you 
say,  we  will  need  a  bill  anyhow ;  I  suggest  that  the 
sooner  we  file  it  the  better.     A  broadside  upon  these 


152  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

people,  so  courageous,  may  be  the  most  fit  way  of  open- 
ing upon  them.  As  to  the  pluck  of  Mr.  Duncan  Guth- 
rie, it  has  become  my  duty  and  privilege  to  try  if  I  can 
find  out  of  what  stuff  it  is  made.'" 

Tolly's  look  showed  that  he  was  startled  by  these 
last  words. 

"  I  spoke  somewhat  sooner  on  that  subject  than  I 
had  intended,  though  I  was  not  going  away  until  I  did. 
I  was  led  to  it  by  what  you  said  about  the  courage  that 
had  come  down  to  Guthrie  from  his  ancestors.  It  made 
me  speculate  momentarily  whether  or  not  among  them 
in  the  times  of  the  claymore  and  its  companion  weap- 
ons of  warfare  it  often,  or  occasionally,  or  even  one 
time  happened  that  one  of  the  blood  insulted  a  woman 
who  had  no  male  defender  near  by." 

He  smiled  as  if  he  had  put  to  an  antiquarian  a  ques- 
tion concerning  a  matter  of  history  that  may  have  been 
overlooked  by  others  who  had  sought  to  save  from  ob- 
livion a  simple  yet  not  wholly  uninteresting  incident  of 
the  past. 

"  I  suppose  I  can  guess  to  what  you  allude,  although 
your  words  and  the  manner  of  their  utterance  surprise 
me  much." 

"How  so?" 

"  I've  been  so  busy  with  this  case  and  others  that 
I've  not  been  to  see  Miss  Jewell  lately ;  but,  meeting 
her  a  few  nights  ago  at  the  Macfarlanes,  I  noticed  that 
she  was  very  serious,  a  thing  unusual  with  her  at  such 
a  time.  She  said  to  me  that  she  had  thought  of  telling 
me  something,  but  had  decided  not  to  do  so.  But  I 
did  not  suppose  that  it  was  a  matter  of  grave  impor- 
tance." 


MR.   BOND   IS  RETAINED.  153 

"  Yes,  but  it  was.     I  know  all  about  it." 

«  Did  she  tell  you  2  " 

"  No ;  I  got  it  from  Dunbar.  Miss  Jewell  wrote  to 
her  sister  about  it.  The  mail  that  brought  the  letter 
had  one  for  me,  in  which,  altogether  against  my  hope 
and  my  expectation,  and  even  against  that  of  Dunbar 
and  his  wife,  she  rejected  my  suit.  Dunbar,  good 
fellow  that  he  is,  told  me  the  reason,  which  was  that 
she  had  been  so  grossly  insulted  by  Guthrie  that  she 
didn't  feel  that  she  had  the  right  to  marry  me  or  any- 
body else." 

"  I  suspected  that  Guthrie  had  had  something  to  do 
with  the  matter  that  was  on  her  mind ;  because  I  no- 
ticed on  the  occasion  referred  to  that  he  had  nothing 
to  say  to  her.  Besides,  he  was  more  grave  than  I  ever 
saw  him,  and,  indeed,  seemed  not  at  his  ease." 

"  And  his  wife  behaved  similarly,  eh  ?  I  know  of 
that  too.  There  was  where  Guthrie  made  his  biggest 
mistake — after  his  first.  Desperate  as  he  was,  I  sup- 
pose he  regarded  it  his  best  expedient  to  save  himself 
from  being  spurned  by  that  good  woman  forever  and 
ever." 

"  Fact  is,  I've  been  rather  uneasy,  but  not  very  much 
so,  since  a  little  party  we  had  in  Mrs.  Guthrie's  woods 
some  time  back,  having  heard  that,  after  I  had  left, 
Guthrie's  wife  became  so  worried  by  his  neglect  of  her- 
self and  his  devotion  to  Miss  Jewell  that  she  left  the 
place  abruptly,  followed  by  Guthrie,  who  seemed  to 
have  been  brought  back  suddenly  to  his  senses.  Still, 
I  have  not  been  suspecting  that  any  insult  had  been 
offered  by  the  fellow.  If  I  had,  I  should  have  looked 
into  it.     I  had  no  idea  that  he  was  so  openly  audacious." 


154  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  There's  been  some  talk,  Tolly,  hasn't  there,  about 
that  party — some  little  talk,  in  undertone,  as  it  were  ? " 

"  No ;  that  is,  not  much,  so  far  as  I  have  heard. 
But  I've  been  busy  at  my  office,  and  in  reading  up  in 
my  room,  and  have  been  out  but  little.  My  friend 
Braddy  says  he  has  heard  some  whisperings,  and  that 
he  announced  himself  ready  to  light  anybody  who  had. 
anything  to  say  against  Miss  Jewell.  But  really,  Bond, 
I've  thought  almost  nothing  about  it,  because  I've  sup- 
posed that  if  anything  serious  had  been  in  it,  Miss  Jewell 
would  have  communicated  with  me,  whom  she  knows  to 
be  her  friend." 

"  The  difficulty,  my  dear  fellow,  is  that  she  couldn't 
communicate  such  a  thing  to  a  man." 

"  Is  she  aware  that  you  know  about  it  ? " 

"  No.  Do  you  think  she's  been  much  hurt  by  these 
whisperings  ? " 

He  rose  and,  putting  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  walked 
up  and  down  in  the  room. 

"  "Well,  no,  Bond,  I  hardly  think  so.  It  is  an  exact- 
ing society  here ;  but  it  is  not  gossipy,  that  is,  among 
those  who  lead  in  it,  and  they  are,  or  they  mean  to  be, 
entirely  just.  But  for  the  attitude  of  Guthrie's  wife,  I 
should  have  felt  little  or  no  disquiet.  She  is  as  true  as 
steel.  Guthrie  has  always  been  a  forward  beau  with 
first  one  young  woman,  then  another,  and  I've  known 
him  to  get  a  sharp  rebuff  more  than  once  when  he  was 
too  free  in  his  manners.  I  am  confident  that  his  wife 
has  been  pained  sometimes  by  such  unbecoming  mani- 
festations ;  but  I  do  not  believe  that  she's  a  jealous- 
minded  woman  at  all,  naturally.  I  suspect,  from  what 
you  tell  me,  that,  in  order  to  get  excused  by  her,  Guthrie 


MR.   BOND  IS  RETAINED.  155 

lias  persuaded  her  that  he  withdraws  from  Miss  Jewell's 
society  voluntarily.  No,  Bond,  I  do  not  believe  that  she 
has  been,  or  will  be  hurt  seriously." 

"  Seriously  !  The  idea  that  she,  or  any  other  honor- 
able woman  should  be  hurt  at  all  by  such  a  man  !  But 
we  shall  see.  Miss  Jewell  has  the  same  opinion  of  Mrs. 
Guthrie  that  you  have.  I  have  heard  her  say  myself, 
and  she  wrote  to  her  sister  in  this  connection,  that  she 
regards  her  as  the  best  woman  in  Clarke.  At  first  she 
suspected  that  she  might  be  a  little  jealous  of  her  among 
other  young  women,  but  she  had  seemed  to  have  got 
entirely  over  such  a  feeling  if  it  ever  had  existed,  and 
therefore  she  was  the  more  cordial  with  Guthrie,  espe- 
cially when  in  her  presence.  Until  that  day,  and  until 
that  moment,  she  did  not  dream  that  Guthrie  had  any 
notions  that  were  not  entirely  honorable,  and  nothing 
could  have  so  amazed  her  as,  prompted  by  the  devil 
within  him,  he  whispered  that  he  loved  her  and  was 
ready  to  make  any  sacrifice  for  her  sake.  When  she 
found  that  she  was  mistaken,  she  rose,  and  was  almost 
in  a  run  toward  his  wife,  meaning,  convulsed  as  she  was 
with  horror,  to  acquaint  her  with  his  audacious  treachery 
to  her,  when  right  there,  in  that  man's  presence,  another 
insult  was  inflicted  that  nobody  but  a  dastard  would  not 
have  made  atonement  for  !  Yes,  sir  ;  that  is  just  what 
he  has  done !  He  has  allowed  that  good  woman  to  be- 
lieve that  he  has  suddenly  discovered  that  Miss  Jewell 
was  not  a  fit  associate  for  either  of  them.     My  Lord ! " 

Tolly  remained  silent,  as  he  walked  excitedly  about 
the  room.  After  a  short  while,  resuming  his  seat,  he 
said,  as  if  momentarily  disposed  to  change  to  a  subject 
more  agreeable : 


15G  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

•'Tolly,  I've  got  some  good  whisky  in  my  trunk. 
If  I  go  and  bring  it  here,  will  you  take  a  drink  ? " 

"  I  think  not  now,  Bond." 

"  No  ?  Well,  then,  I  won't.  We  Augusta  fellows 
are  in  the  habit  of  taking  with  us  when  we  go  into  the 
country  some  of  the  article.  Danger  of  coming  up  with 
bad  water,  you  know,  or  indigestible  food,  or  being  snake 
bit,  or  dog  bit,  or  cow  horned,  in  benighted  regions.  I 
suspect  you  country  lawyers  feel  that  you  must  do  the 
like,  especially  when  you  go  south." 

"  We  are  not  very  particular  as  to  how  the  compass 
points  whither  we  are  traveling  when  arranging  our 
outfit," 

"  I  would  have  guessed  as  much.  Well,  the  thought 
of  it  just  then,  though  not  often  do  I  imbibe,  was  sug- 
gested to  me.  I'm  satisfied  to  go  without  it.  Now  I'll 
tell  you  a  little  bit  of  romance.  You  like  romance, 
Tolly  ?  You  look  as  if  you  did.  Indeed,  you  rustic 
boys  in  your  greenness — I  mean  to  say,  innocence — you 
have  it  young,  quite  young,  and  you  keep  on  having  it, 
till  finally  you  get  caught,  and  then  you  settle  down  to 
business.  As  for  me,  although  country  born  myself,  I 
never  felt  any  particular  tendency  in  that  way  until  last 
winter.  Lookee  here,  if  we  won't  take  a  drink,  let  us  at 
least  have  a  cigar.  When  I'm  talking  business  I  never 
think  of  smoking ;  but  whenever  I  drop  into  the  senti- 
mental, or  rise  into  it,  however  it  may  be  properest  to 
say,  I  feel  like  trying  the  weed.  I  notice  that  you  bump- 
kins, when  you  can't  smoke,  are  always  chewing.  Even 
the  judge,  though  he's  first  rate  in  dispatch  of  business, 
has  a  spit-box  by  him  behind  the  bench.  Now  for  my 
romance,  if  you  want  to  hear  about  it.     Do  you?" 


MR.  BOND  IS  RETAINED.  157 

"  I'm  eager ;  man,  don't  you  see  that  I  am  on 
thorns ! " 

"  There  is  where  I  wanted  to  get  you  before  I  began. 
It  was  brief,  and  so  shall  be  its  story." 

Having  got  on  a  good  headway  of  smoke,  he  laid 
his  cigar  upon  the  table,  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  clasped 
his  hands  neatly  on  his  breast,  as  if  to  put  himself  in  be- 
coming romantic  attitude,  and  began  : 

"  Once  upon  a  time,  it  was  in  the  fall  of  the  year 
and  nigh  unto  the  latter  end  thereof,  a  young  person 
whose  sex  I  will  leave  you  to  infer,  arrived  in  the  city 
of  Augusta,  having  come  from  a  distant  State,  intimating 
that  it  was  the  State  of  Massachusetts,  and  from  the  town 
of  St.  Botolph— " 

"  What  town  \  " 

"  St.  Botolph :  I  called  it  calmly,  but  distinctly,  as  I 
think." 

"  It  wasn't  in  the  geography  I  studied." 

"Perhaps  not;  but  am  I  to  be  made  believe  that 
here  is  a  Bachelor  of  Arts,  and  a  lawyer,  eminent,  how- 
ever young,  who  didn't  know  that  Boston  was  an  abbre- 
viation of  BotolpNs  Town,  so  named  from  that  excel- 
lent, devout,  and  illustrious  saint  ? " 

"  I  Tow  long  have  you  known  it  ? " 

"  Ever  since  the  arrival  of  the  emigrant  hereinbefore 
referred  to." 

"I  see;  proceed,  if  you  please.  It  has  already  be- 
come not  only  personally,  but  historically  interesting. 
Proceed,  proceed ! " 

"  Oh,  you  put  me  out  with  questions  exposing  your 
ignorance,  and  I  am  driven  to  be  even  briefer  than  I 
intended.     The  truth  is  that  the  lady — for  I  saw  from 


158  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

your  looks  that  you  had  divined  it  to  be  a  female — had 
been  in  Augusta  not  more  than  a  month  before  I  fell  in 
love  with  her,  and  had  no  more  discretion  than  to  go  to 
courting  her  straightway,  not  having  more  than  a  thou- 
sand dollars  to  my  credit  in  bank,  although  my  pros- 
pects for  making  more  than  a  living  seem  reasonably 
good.  After  several  months  she  admitted  that  she 
rather  thought  she  liked  me  right  well,  but  that  she 
wouldn't  marry  anybody,  at  least  for  some  time  to  come. 
I  argued  the  case  with  her  as  well  as  I  knew  how,  never 
having  been  instructed  in  the  prolegomena  of  lovers' 
profession,  and  I  had  good  help  from  her  sister  and  her 
brother-in-law,  who  are  the  very  best  friends  I  have  in 
Augusta.  These  two  tried  to  persuade  their  sister  to 
live  with  them,  as  both  parents  are  deceased,  but  she  an- 
nounced her  intention  to  work  for  her  own  living,  and 
accepted  the  offer  of  her  cousin,  Mr.  Wendell,  to  teach 
in  his  academy.  At  your  March  term  she  said  that  she 
would  give  me  a  definite  answer  to  my  persistent  suit 
at  her  forthcoming  vacation,  which  she  expected  to 
spend  with  the  Dunbars,  and  she  intimated  that  it  would 
be  favorable.  Last  week  I  got  a  letter  saying  she  would 
not  leave  Clarke  this  summer,  or  if  she  did,  it  would  be 
to  linger  at  Augusta  only  for  a  few  days  on  her  way 
back  to  Boston.  Then  she  added  that  she  had  nothing 
to  say  regarding  the  proposal  that  I  had  made,  except 
to  request  that  I  would  never  refer  to  it  again.  So  I 
went  to  Dunbar,  and  learned  what  I  have  told  you.  I 
was  intending  to  make  a  break  for  this  remote  inland 
village  when  your  letter  came,  and  so  here  I  am,  ready 
both  for  a  lawsuit  and  a  fight.  That's  all.  If  you 
hadn't  interrupted  me,  I've  no  doubt  I  could  have  made 


MR.  BOND  IS  RETAINED.  159 

it  more  interesting,  not  to  say  to  a  moderate  degree 
thrilling.     My  sakes !     My  cigar  has  gone  clean  out !  " 

Seizing  it,  he  sucked  as  if  for  life. 

"  No,  not  quite  out." 

"  What  was  the  result  of  the  interview  to-night  ? " 

"  Kejection,  out  and  out ;  but,  Tolly,  tears  were  in 
her  eyes  when  she  said  the  words,  and  she  admitted 
that  she  had  made  up  her  mind  shortly  after  leaving 
Augusta  to  accept  me,  but  that  circumstances  had  forced 
her  to  change  it  AYhen  pressed  to  let  me  know  the 
cause,  she  answered  that  she  could  not.  But  I  know ; 
for  she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Dunbar  that  when  she  found  how 
poorly  qualified  she  was  to  prevent  a  man's  making  to 
her  a  dishonorable  proposal,  she  did  not  feel  that  she  had 
the  right  to  marry  me  or  any  other  true  man.  Good 
God,  Tolly !  Good  God,  man !  What  can't  a  woman 
do  and  endure!  Why,  what  answer  do  you  suppose 
she  sent  to  her  sister  when  she  asked  her  why  she  had 
not  revealed  Guthrie's  villainy  to  his  wife  ?  It  was 
partly  because  of  the  notoriety  that  might  come  of  it, 
but  mainly  because  she  could  not  bear  the  thought  of 
making  an  innocent  woman  whom  she  admired  and  re- 
spected as  miserable  as  herself.  The  dog  said  to  her,  as 
preliminary  to  the  insult,  that  he  did  not  love  his  wife, 
in  which  words  I've  not  a  doubt  that  he  uttered  a  lie  !  I 
told  her  that  I  would  not  take  her  rejection  after  what 
she  admitted,  and  I  appealed  to  her  to  deal  with  me 
with  greater  candor,  saying  that  with  any  trouble  or 
sorrow7  that  was  upon  her  mind,  I  sympathized  more 
deeply  than  anybody  else  could.  I  could  make  no  im- 
pression on  that  line  ;  but  I  could  see  that  she  doubted 
if  what  she  was  doing,  or  rather  refusing  to  do,  was  en- 


160  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

tirely  right  to  either  of  us.  But  to  think  that  things 
can  remain  in  this  state  ! " 

"  It  is  not  easy  to  see  what  you  can  do,  Bond,  or 
what  would  be  best  to  be  done.  I  think  Miss  Jewell  is 
wrong  in  the  view  she  takes.  If  you  and  she  were  to 
marry,  the  whole  thing  would  die  out  at  once." 

"  And  the  insult,  the  silent  slander  in  allowing  these 
whisperings,  as  you  call  them,  to  go  uncontradicted,  and 
even  to  be  accredited  by  his  virtuous  withdrawal  of  him- 
self and  his  wife  from  her  company,  the  distrust  among 
good  people  kindly  and  sorrowful — all  these  to  be  passed 
over  with  humble  thankfulness  that  they,  by  the  mere 
accident  of  marriage  with  me,  were  scotched  short  of 
effecting  the  ruin  of  a  good  woman's  reputation !  By 
the  ever-living  God!  even  if  I  didn't  love  her,  as  I 
do,  related  as  I  am  to  her  family,  I  should  feel  myself 
bound  to  see  her  righted!  As  it  is,  I  am  going  to 
make  the  effort  to  do  it  speedily,  and  before  she  finds 
that  I  know  anything  about  it." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  are  to  proceed,  Bond.  If 
Guthrie  is  called  to  account,  of  course  he'll  plead  that 
Miss  Jewell  had  mistaken  the  intent  of  his  words. 
He'll  feel  that  he  owes  that  to  the  safety  of  his  own 
domestic  peace." 

"  Aye !  he  may  lie  as  much  as  he  pleases  to  the  good 
woman  whose  happiness  depends  upon  her  trust  in  him, 
but  if  he  lies  to  me,  I'll  put  my  brand  upon  him  and 
then  stand  him  up  in  the  market-place  for  the  scorn  of 
all  men  and  all  women ! "  " 

"  Such  as  that  could  not  be  done  with  a  man  like 
Guthrie  without  risk  of  fatal  consequences  to  one  of 
you  or  both." 


INQUIRIES  ABOUT  ALAN  GUTHRIE'S  WILL.    101 

"  That  is  the  calculation  I  have  figured.  But,  Tolly, 
when  a  man  finds  himself  on  a  certain  line  of  duty,  if 
he  is  a  man  really,  he  can't  step  aside  from  it  because 
of  apparent  dangers.  However,  one  case  at  a  time.  I 
had  not  thought  to  get  upon  this  to-night.  Let's  go 
back  to  the  other." 

They  conferred  late,  and  not  another  allusion  was 
made  to  Miss  Jewell  that  night. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

INQUIRIES    ABOUT    ALAN    GUTHKIE's    WILL. 

At  that  period  applications  for  administration 
upon  the  estates  of  persons  deceased,  besides  publica- 
tion in  one  or  more  of  the  gazettes  of  the  State,  were 
required  to  be  posted  at  the  door  of  the  court-house. 
A  few  days  after  the  event  narrated  in  the  foregoing 
chapter,  simultaneously  with  their  appearance  in  The 
Southern  Recorder,  a  weekly  newspaper  published  in 
the  town  of  Milledgeville,  then  the  capital  of  the  State, 
two  notices  signed  by  the  clerk  of  the  Inferior  court 
of  the  county  sitting  as  a  court  of  Ordinary  were 
placed  upon  the  court-house  door.  One  purported  to 
be  an  application  by  John  Stapleton  for  letters  of 
administration  upon  the  estate  of  Caroline  Stapleton, 
lately  deceased,  and  the  other  by  the  same  for  letters 
of  guardianship  of  the  property  of  Alan  and  Caro- 
line Stapleton,  her  minor  children.  Men,  knowing 
the  law  that  married  women  could  hold  no  property 
11 


162  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

separate  from  their  husbands  except  by  special  con- 
tract, or  by  settlement  on  the  part  of  persons  from 
whom  such  property  had  been  acquired  by  purchase  or 
testamentary  paper,  speculated  how  it  was  that  Staple- 
ton  should  apply  for  administration  upon  an  estate 
already  his  own,  and  for  guardianship  for  his  children 
who  had  none.  Mr.  Macfarlane,  happening  to  be  on 
the  street,  and  hearing  the  notices  discussed,  went  to 
the  court-house,  and  after  reading  them  turned  away 
without  remark  and  went  back  to  his  home.  On  the 
contrary,  Guthrie,  when  he  had  read  them,  said  to  two 
or  three  men  who  were  inspecting  them  at  the  same 
time  : 

"  It  looks  as  if  Jack  Stapleton  wanted  to  make  him- 
self more  conspicuous  since  he  has  become  a  widower." 

He  turned,  and,  entering  the  clerk's  office,  said  : 

"Anderson,  did  Stapleton  make  personal  applica- 
tion for  letters  of  administration  and  guardianship, 
notices  of  which  I  see  out  at  the  door,  or  was  it  made 
by  attorney  % " 

"  No,  Mr.  Guthrie,  Jack  never  applied.  Mr.  Tolly 
and  that  other  young  lawyer  from  Augusta — Bond,  I 
believe  they  call  him — they  were  in  here  looking  over 
the  records,  and  this  morning  Mr.  Tolly  came  back  and 
made  the  application  for  Jack.  Look  to  me  like,  Mr. 
Guthrie,  Jack's  going  to  put  himself  to  useless  expense, 
though  I  don't  know,  .of  course,  anything  about — or 
much  about  the  law." 

"  That  is  just  what  he  is  doing.  You  say  Bond  was 
with  Tolly?  I  noticed  he  was  in  town,  but  I  thought 
he  came  in  to  see  that  woman  at  Wendell's,  the  school- 
master." 


INQUIRIES  ABOUT   ALAN  GUTHRIE'S  WILL.     163 

"  Fine-looking,  handsome  woman.  They  tell  me 
she's  very  fond  of  gentlemen's  soeiet}'." 

"  Perhaps  she  is,  Anderson.  I  know  very  little  of 
her.  Did  Bond  seem  to  be  taking  a  part  in  Tolly's 
investigations  ? " 

"Oh,  yes,  sir.  They  looked  over  the  books  and 
things  together,  and  he  seem  to  be  wanting  to  study 
into  'em  much  as  Mr.  Tolly." 

"What  records  specially— however,  I  won't  ask 
that  question." 

Then  he  went  out.  The  blow  upon  him  was  pain- 
ful as  it  was  sudden.  The  appearance  of  Bond  with 
Tolly  convinced  him  that  they  had  instituted  a  case 
with  expectation  that  it  would  be  strongly  contested. 
He  was  lawyer  enough  not  to  doubt  that  an  assault  was 
intended  upon  the  will  of  his  father,  and  from  what 
his  mother  lately,  for  the  first  time,  had  told  him  of  the 
circumstances  of  its  execution,  he  foresaw  that  such 
an  assault  would  be  dangerous.  Combative  by  nature, 
his  first  impulse  was  to  proceed  to  Tolly's  office,  denounce 
both  Stapleton  and  the  threat  thus  sent  out  against  his 
mother,  and  warn  Tolly  and  his  colleague  to  keep  them- 
selves carefully  within  the  limits  of  what  was  due  to 
their  client  in  prosecution  of  the  case.  A  little  reflec- 
tion convinced  him  of  the  imprudence  that  would  be  in 
such  action.  Going  to  his  office,  he  remained  for  half 
an  hour  reflecting  upon  what  first  movement  it  was 
proper  to  make.  Coming  out  again,  he  noticed  Peter- 
son Braddy,  who,  having  borrowed  a  chair  from  within 
the  court-house,  was  sitting  and  leaning  back  against 
the  wall  near  the  door.  Stopping  and  looking  in  an- 
other direction,  he  overheard  the  following  : 


16J;  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  You're  in  town  early,  Pete.  Through  your  busi- 
ness a'ready  and  taking  a  rest  1  You  look  as  comfort- 
able as  a  bee  on  a  rasher  of  watermelon." 

"  Mornin',  Mr.  "Wicker.  Just  about,  if  not  comfort- 
abler.  I  never  had  any  business.  I  jes  come  to  hear 
the  racket  and  see  the  fun." 

"  "What  racket  ?  Everything  seems  to  be  about  as 
quiet  as  common." 

"  Read  them  papers  above  thar,"  said  he,  pointing 
with  his  thumb  backward  and  upward.  After  reading 
the  notices,  the  man  said : 

"  Why,  what  do  they  mean  ?  I  thought  Jack's 
property  all  belonged  to  him,  and  I  didn't  know  that 
his  children  had  any." 

"  So  it  does,  what  they  is  thar ;  but  it  ain't  all  thar, 
Mr.  Wicker." 

"  Where  is  it,  then  ? " 

"Now  that  I  can't  answer — that  is,  not  egzact. 
Some  of  it's  in  land,  and  some  of  it's  in  niggers,  and 
some  in  town  lots,  and  some's  in  horses  and  mules  and 
stock  of  various  kind,  and  nobody  knows  what's  in 
money  a-drawin'  of  interest ;  but  my  suspicion  is  it's  a 
pile."' 

Guthrie  turned  away  and  moved  across  the  street, 
Braddy  the  while  looking  at  his  retreating  form  as  if 
pleased  with  the  sight. 

"  Pete,  what  does  it  mean  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Wicker. 

"  Wiry,  sir,  to  my  opinion,  it  means  no  less,  and  it 
means  no  more  than  that  man's  mother  you  see  walking 
so  lofty  yonder  across  the  squar',  that  she  have  been 
keepin'  one  of  the  old  man  Guthrie's  children  out  of  her 
sheer  of  her  lavvAil  father's  property,  exception  of  sich 


INQUIRIES  ABOUT  ALAN   GUTHRIE'S  WILL     105 

driblets  as  slie's  been  o'  mind  to  allow  lier  ;  and  now 
that  child's  dead,  and  Jack  Stapleton,  what  by  good 
rights  he  ought  to  done  long  ago,  he  have  made  up  his 
mind  that  him  and  his  children  sha'n't  be  kept  out  o' 
thar  right  any  longer  if  he  can  help  it.  It's  to  my 
opinions  that  it's  that  them  notices  means  you  see  up 
thar,  Mr.  Wicker,  neither  more  nor  neither  less." 

"  But  I  thought  the  property  was  all  left  to  her  to 
do  as  she  pleased  with  it." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  but  you  see  it  never  pleased  her  to  do 
right  about  it.  Thar's  the  p'int,  Mr.  Wicker  ;  and  more 
than  that,  they  have  been  people  and  they  is  people  that 
believes  when  the  old  man  Guthrie  signed  that  will  he 
wer'n't  strong  enough  in  his  mind  to  make  his  signin' 
what  the  law  allow,  and  that's  another  p'int.  You  see 
I'm  jes  a-talkin'  at  randuoms,  as  the  sayin'  is,  Mr. 
Wicker,  and  a-expressin'  of  my  opinions,  which  I  sup- 
pose everybody's  liable  to  do  that  much." 

"  Well,  if  Jack  has  such  rights,  I,  for  one,  will  be 
glad  to  see  him  get  them.  It  never  seemed  to  me  to  be 
right  for  him  and  his  family  to  have  to  live  so  close  and 
managy,  and  his  wife's  brother  to  have  everything  he 
wanted." 

"  Yes,  sir,  yes,  sir  ;  I've  heard  varous  make  them 
same  remarks.  Well,  I  jus'  thought  I'd  ride  in  and 
peruse  around  a  while.  I  think  I'll  go  back  to  Tom 
Tolly's  office  and  jaw  him  a  little  siege  before  I  go  back 
home." 

When,  after  a  brief  call,  he  had  gone  from  Tolly's, 
Bond  said  : 

"  I  was  much  impressed  by  that  man.  He's  a  sen- 
sible, generous,  brave  fellow." 


1G6  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  That  he  is  ;  I  know  no  one  more  so.  He  loves 
Stapleton  with  all  his  heart,  and  he'll  be  worth  more  to 
us  than  Stapleton  himself  in  working  up  the  case.  He 
dislikes  Guthrie,  and  has  some  reason  ;  but  that  consid- 
eration, if  it  had  any  influence,  would  tend  to  make  him 
keep  silent.  He  is  actuated  only  by  his  affection  for 
Stapleton,  whom  ever  since  his  marriage  he  has  been 
urging  to  do  what  is  now  being  done.  He's  an  ardent 
admirer  of  Miss  Jewell." 

"  Bless  his  heart  for  that !  Oh,  yes,  it  is  plain  to  see 
that  he  is  full  of  sense  and  spirit.  You've  got  Fon- 
hlanque's  Equity  f     Yes,  I  see." 

Guthrie,  finding  on  inquiry  that  Mr.  Macfarlane  had 
been  on  the  street  but  had  gone  back  home,  decided  to 
repair  to  his  own. 

"  Alice,"  he  said,  after  reaching  there,  "  it  looks  as 
if  mother  were  going  to  have  some  trouble  with  Jack 
Stapleton.  I  saw  on  the  court-house  door  just  now  a 
couple  of  notices,  in  one  of  which  he  has  made  to  the 
Court  of  Ordinary  application  for  letters  of  adminis- 
tration on  Caroline's  estate,  as  he  terms  it,  and  in  the 
other  for  guardianship  of  the  children.  Anderson,  the 
clerk,  informs  me  that  Tolly  and  that  man  Bond,  he 
believes,  are  at  the  head  of  it.  I  knew  Bond  had  been 
in  town  for  some  days,  but  I  supposed  that  he  came  to 
see  that  Jewell  woman." 

She  made  no  answer,  but  looked  as  if  she  was  sol- 
emnly pondering  his  words. 

"  I  wonder  at  Tolly,"  he  continued,  "  not  giving  me 
some  sort  of  notice  that  such  proceedings  were  going  to 
be  had,  knowing  the  interest  I  must  have  in  the  case. 
I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  Charlotte  has  floored  him, 


INQUIRIES  ABOUT  ALAN  GUTHRIE'S   WILL.    167 

and  so  he  feels  as  if  lie  must  get  revenge  out  of  some 
of  the  family." 

"  I  hardly  think,  dear,  that  Mr.  Tolly  is  capable  of 
such  as  that.  I  suppose  that  he  feels  as  if  he  ought,  as 
his  counsel,  to  keep  his  client's  secret." 

"  That  duty  would  not  have  been  at  all  violated  if 
he  had  known  what  was  common  professional  courtesy. 
What  do  you  think  of  Jack  Stapleton  making  an  under- 
hand attack  upon  mother  when  his  child  is  being  taken 
care  of  in  the  house  of  her  son  ? "  he  said  petulantly, 
already  angry  at  the  thought  that  he  could  not  make 
her  views  accord  with  his  own. 

"  My  dear  husband,  I  am  as  little  disposed  to  sus- 
pect Mr.  Stapleton  of  underhand  conduct  as  Mr. 
Tolly  of  unprofessional.  The  notices  you  speak  of, 
it  seems,  are  on  the  court-house  door,  where  every- 
body can  see  them  who  cares  to.  I  can  not  imagine 
that  he  means  to  do  any  wrong,  or  that  he  does  not 
feel  grateful  for  the  care  that  temporarily  is  bestowed 
upon  his  child  by  you  and  me.  If  he  did,  or  if  he 
thought  that  you  would  so  suspect,  I  really  believe  that 
he'd  make  haste  to  procure  a  nurse  and  send  for  the 
child." 

"  You  entirely  mistake  that  creature  ! " 

"  I  don't  think  so." 

In  the  few  domestic  disputes  between  these  two,  the 
wife  had  been  able  to  hold  her  own  reasonably  well,  be- 
cause of  being  always  in  the  right.  The  results  had 
been  some  subdual  of  arbitrariness  on  his  part,  and  in- 
voluntary increase  of  spirit  on  hers.  Decline,  resisted 
as  it  had  been,  in  the  respect  which  she  had  for  his  char- 
acter, had  been  leading  her  slowly  toward  forming  and 


168  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

expressing  her  opinions  and  corresponding  indifference 
to  what  he  might  think.  She  had  been  led  by  Charlotte 
Macfarlane  to  doubt  the  full  verity  of  what  he  had  been 
saying  lately  about  Miss  Jewell ;  for  Charlotte,  observ- 
ing the  coldness  with  which  Miss  Jewell  had  been 
treated  by  her,  had  mildly  remonstrated  and  assured 
her  that  in  her  judgment  that  young  woman  was  en- 
titled to  the  very  highest  respect  from  all,  women  and 
men.  The  bare  thought  that  her  own  husband  had 
.maltreated  a  woman  so  situated  terrified  her,  because 
there  was  danger  of  her  having  to  postpone  her  own 
grief  and  shame  to  those  of  a  greater  sufferer.  That 
very  day  she  had  met  Miss  Jewell  and  Charlotte  togeth- 
er in  one  of  the  stores,  and  had  exchanged  such  civil- 
ity as  she  must  not  neglect.  She  had  looked  into  her 
eyes,  and  it  made  her  sick  at  heart  to  believe  that  in 
them  she  could  see  innocence  as  unspotted  as  that  she 
felt  in  her  own  being.  She  had  come  back  to  her 
home  longing,  if  but  for  a  brief  time,  to  get  away 
from  her  surroundings  and  go  upon  a  visit  to  her 
father's  house.  Such  things  are  bound,  if  not  ended, 
to  become  fatal  to  conjugal  peace  and  dangerous  to 
conjugal  love. 

It  was  on  Guthrie's  tongue  to  say  something  con- 
temptuous about  his  wife's  defense  of  Tolly  and  Staple- 
ton,  but  he  withheld  it,  and,  taking  a  chair  near  the  end 
of  the  piazza,  seated  himself  and  ruminated  what  he 
was  to  do  in  a  case  wherein  he  knew  that  he  would  not 
have  her  support,  which,  if  he"  had  had  it,  he  would  not 
have  counted  at  its  worth,  but  which  it  now  pained  and 
angered  him  to  be  without.  It  occurred  to  him  again 
that  this  woman,  meek  as  she  was,  needed  to  be  treated 


INQUIRIES  ABOUT  ALAN  GUTHRIE'S  WILL.    l(ft 

with  more  carefulness  and  conciliation  than  he  used  to 
believe  to  be  necessary.  Shortly  afterward,  while  he 
was  in  such  a  reverie,  Simon,  the  man  who  had  brought 
the  news  of  Mrs.  Stapleton's  last  illness,  came  riding  a 
mule  along  the  carriage-way.  Arrived  at  the  steps,  he 
dismounted,  and,  holding  to  the  bridle,  gave  humble 
salutation  and  said : 

"  I  'feared  to  let  my  mule  go  loose  o'  de  bridle, 
Marse  Dunkin,  fear  he  tromple  on  Miss  Alice  bushes  en 
things.  Can't  you  please  call  one  dem  boys  or  gals 
'bout  de  house,  en  let  me  give  'em  dis  here  paper  I 
fotch  from  Marse  Jacky's.  I  be  much  obleeged  to  yer 
ef  yer  will,  Marse  Dunkin." 

He  removed  his  hat  and  took  out  a  letter.  Guthrie, 
descending  a  couple  of  steps,  reached  forth,  and  when 
he  had  opened  and  read  it,  said  : 

"  All  right,  Simon — that's  your  name,  isn't  it  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,  marster.  My  mammy  she  name  me  dat 
atter  her  daddy,  en  dee  been  callin'  me  dat  ev'y  sence  I 
'members.  Yes,  sir,  dat  so,  jes  like  I  tell  yer,  dough  my 
granddaddy,  big  Simon  dee  called  him,  he  been  dead 
en  gone  dis  long  time.     Yes,  sir  ;  dat  so." 

''That'll  do.  Take  your  mule  behind  there  and 
tell  Marcus  I  say  to  show  you  where  to  put  him.  I'll 
reflect  upon  your  master's  note,  and  may  send  an  an- 
swer by  you." 

Calling  to  Alice,  who  had  gone  within  the  house,  he 
said : 

"  Here's  a  note  from  Stapleton.  Read  it  and  say 
what  you  think." 

The  note  read  thus : 


170  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"June  20,  1828. 

"  To  Duncan  Guthrie,  Esq. 

"  Dear  Sir  :  I  Lave  been  advised  that  my  children 
may  have  more  interest  in  the  estate  of  their  grand- 
father Guthrie  than  what  was  received  by  their  mother, 
and  I  am  abont  to  begin  such  legal  proceedings  as  may 
ascertain  if  this  be  so.  It  may  or  may  not  be  necessary 
to  give  you  my  assurance  that  the  investigation  will  be 
conducted  with  entire  fairness.  I  write  now  especially 
to  say  that,  embarrassed  as  I  am,  and  as  you  may  be,  by 
the  fact  that  one  of  these  children  is  now  in  your  fam- 
ily, my  intention  is  to  send  for  it  as  soon  as  I  can  find 
a  woman  qualified  to  take  care  of  it.  This  I  have  a 
prospect  of  doing  very  shortly. 

"  Respectfully  yours, 

"  John  Stapleton." 

"  The  fellow  has  some  more  grace  than  I  gave  him 
credit  for,  eh  ? " 

He  felt  that  he  could  not  say  less  when  his  judg- 
ment had  been  so  soon  set  aside.  Quickly,  after  read- 
ing the  letter,  Alice  said  : 

"  O  Duncan,  this  must  not  be !  Poor  Sister  Caro- 
line an  hour  before  her  death  asked  me,  provided  you 
were  willing,  to  take  care  of  her  baby  until  it  was  old 
enough  to  be  put  into  other  hands  without  risk.  I  an- 
swered her  that  I  was  sure  that  you  would  not  object, 
as  you  did  not.  The  dear  little  thing  is  doing  very 
well,  and  I  feel  as  if  it  would  be  almost  a  sin  to  let  her 
run  the  risk  of  going  to  another  nurse.  If  it  is  likely 
to  be  embarrassing  to  anybody — though  I  can't  see  how 
such  a  thing  is  possible— let  me  go  up  to  Broad  River. 
You  promised  me,  you  remember,  that  I  might  make  a 


INQUIRIES  ABOUT  ALAN  GUTHRIE'S  WILL.     171 

good  long  visit  home  tliis  summer,  and  I  am  sure  that 
both  father  and  mother  would  be  glad  for  me  to  take 
the  baby  with  me.  Surely  the  business  will  not  require 
a  very  long  time  to  be  brought  to  some  sort  of  settle- 
ment, and  I — " 

He  well  knew  what  she  would  have  said  if  she  had 
continued  to  speak,  and,  instead  of  being  displeased,  he 
was  rather  gratified  by  it.  For  he  was  ill  at  ease,  and 
lie  felt  that  if  his  wife  were  absent  for  some  weeks,  he 
might  be  less  embarrassed  by  contingencies,  which,  how- 
ever indistinctly,  he  could  not  but  expect  to  arise. 
Therefore  he  answered  promptly  : 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  Alice.  Jack  Stapleton  needn't 
have  been  so  very  touchy  and  so  formal,  especially  if  it 
be  true,  as  he  says,  that  he  seeks  only  a  fair  investiga- 
tion. He  shall  have  that  as  far  as  I  can  help  to  give  it 
to  him.  You  know  I've  always  wanted  mother  to  do 
more  for  them  than  she  has.  I  shall  advise  her  to  pro- 
pose such  a  settlement  as  the  fellow  ought  to  accept, 
whether  he  will  or  not.  The  property  is  mother's  to  do 
with  as  she  pleases,  but  I  have  always  thought  that  she 
ought  to  have  given  them  more  of  it.  I  rather  think 
your  suggestion  a  good  one,  although  I  shall  be  deuced 
lonesome  here  by  myself.  It  would  not  be  embarrass- 
ing to  me,  nor — with  all  his  talk — would  it  be  to  Staple- 
ton  ;  but  it  might  be  so  to  you  to  remain  here  with  the 
baby  pending  his  '  investigations,'  as  he  calls  them  ;  and 
of  course  it  would  not  do  to  separate  so  young  a  child 
from  a  nurse  that  suits  her  as  well  as  Lizy  does.  So  I 
consent  for  you  to  go.  The  case  isn't  going  to  take  very 
long,  if  the  other  party  will  come  to  a  reasonable  set- 
tlement, that  is,  if  I  can  get  mother — as  I  hope  I  can — 


172  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

to  the  point  of  proposing  one.  I  don't  want  to  have 
her  bedevilled  long  by  Jack  Stapleton,  and  I  shall  give 
Tolly  and  his  colleague — that  Bond— notice  that  they 
have  a  care  how  they  refer  to  her  in  their  pleadings, 
and  what  they  may  have  to  say  to  a  jury,  if  it  ever 
gets  there." 

"  Duncan  "  she  said,  as  if  she  had  not  been  attending 
to  his  latest  words,  "  suppose  you  shut  up  the  house  and 
stay  with  mother  while  I  am  gone.  I  know  she'll  want 
you  to." 

"  Yes ;  no  doubt  of  that.  I'll  at  least  take  my  meals 
there,  and  see  how  it  will  be  as  to  sleeping.  I'll  try  it  a 
night  or  so  here.  Will  you  write  to  Stapleton?  I 
shall  not." 

"  Yes,  if  you  think  it  best.  Perhaps  it  would  be. 
I  shall  make  no  allusion  to  the  first  part  of  his  letter,  of 
course." 

"  Write  what  you  please,  my  dear." 
She  wrote  a  brief  note,  saying  that  she  was  about  to 
leave  home  in  order  to  make  a  visit  of  some  weeks 
to  her  parents,  and  that  she  considered  it  decidedly  best 
to  take  the  child  along  with  her,  as  she  was  doing  well 
in  every  respect.  As  for  what  arrangement  it  might 
seem  desirable  to  make  hereafter,  that  was  a  matter 
that  he  might  consider  during  her  absence. 

"  I  think  it  is  all  right,  Alice,"  said  Guthrie,  hand- 
ing her  back  the  note  when  he  had  read  it.  "You 
write,"  he  added,  smiling,  "  as  if  you  were  going  right 
away." 

"  I  think  I'll  go  day  after  to-morrow.  It  will  take 
me  this  afternoon  to  put  away  things,  and  I  must  get 
some  to-morrow  that  the  baby  may  need.     You'll  want 


INQUIRIES  ABOUT  ALAN  GUTHRIE'S  WILL.     173 

to  spend  this  evening  with  mother,  no  doubt,  and  I'll  go 
"with  you  to  tell  her  good-by." 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  answered  quickly.  "  I  shall  not  trou- 
ble her  with  it  until  you  go.  I  am  bound  to  have  a  time 
of  it  with  her,  and  I'll  wait  till  you  are  away,  unless 
some  fool  runs  up  there  and  tells  her  about  it  before- 
hand. I  don't  believe  I'd  go  there  if  I  were  in  your 
place.  She  might  suspect  from  your  sudden  departure 
that  something;  was  wrong,  and  I'd  have  to  tell  her  be- 
fore  I  am  ready.  I  shall  go  to  Uncle  Dennis's  to-morrow 
and  advise  with  him  first." 

"  Then  I'll  go  to  work  and  get  off  to-morrow." 

"  I  don't  know  if  that  isn't  best,  Alice.  I  must  tell 
her  some  time  to-morrow,  and  I'll  feel  thankful  that  you 
are  out  of  hearing  of  the  bother  and  the  bustle." 

This  arrangement  lifted  much  of  his  anxiety.  Dur- 
ing the  rest  of  the  day  he  seemed  to  be  more  as  he  used 
to  be,  affectionate  in  his  words  and  manners,  and  anx- 
ious to  assist  wherever  he  could  in  her  preparation  for 
departure.  When  she  was  through  with  all  that  night, 
he  asked  her  to  play.  He  sat  upon  a  sofa  and  looked 
at  her  with  unwonted  pride  and  fondness.  Indeed,  he 
loved  her  dearly,  and  now  he  wished  in  his  heart  that 
all  his  actions  toward  her  had  been  such  that  she  would 
know,  at  this  very  time,  how  fondly  he  did  love  her, 
and  that  he  could  feel  that  she  would  be  as  eager  and 
as  thankful  to  return  to  him  as  now  she  was  to  visit  the 
home  from  which  he  had  taken  her.  Feelings  of  appre- 
hension and  sadness  fell  upon  his  heart  deeper  than  at 
any  time  before  in  all  his  life.  Her  value  to  him  seemed 
inestimably  higher  than  ever  as,  sitting  aside  and  shad- 
ing his  eyes,  he  looked  at  her  and  thought  how  beautiful, 


17i  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

and  pure,  and  true-hearted  she  was,  and  how  long  would 
seem  the  separation  that  would  begin  to-morrow.  Yet 
he  gave  no  expression  to  his  thoughts  in  words.  He 
made  no  objection  when  at  last  she  said  she  was  fatigued 
and  would  retire.  Rising,  he  closed  the  piano  for 
her.  After  she  had  gone  out,  he  sat  for  a  few  minutes 
longer,  and  then  followed  her.  The  next  morning,  aft- 
er he  had  seen  her  go  off  so  like  a  young  child  fondly  re- 
turning to  the  bosom  of  her  parents,  he  went  to  the 
same  seat  in  the  parlor  whereon  he  had  sat  the  night  be- 
fore and  shed  tears.  How  inconsistent  and  incomprehen- 
sible is  this  human  frame  !  When  he  had  dried  his  eyes 
and  looked  around  him  and  felt  the  solitude,  the 
thought  came  upon  him  that  he  was  enduring  more 
than  he  deserved,  and  he  accepted  without  resistance  the 
relief,  poor  as  it  was,  that  came  from  an  indefinite  yet 
conscious  sense  of  resentment.  It  was  too  late  for  him 
to  unlearn  the  wrong  teachings  that  he  had  been  having 
all  his  life.  He  rose,  dressed  himself  afresh,  then 
walked  with  vigorous,  swift  step  into  the  town. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

GUTHRIE   CONFERS   WITH    HIS    UNCLE. 

Wishing  to  have  some  conference  with  Mr.  Mac- 
farlane  before  acquainting  his  mother  with  the  no- 
tices and  their  probable  meaning,  Guthrie  looked  for 
him  on  the  street.  A  servant  whom  he  happened  to 
meet  answered  his  inquiry  by  saying  that  his  master 


GUTHRIE  CONFERS  WITH   HIS   UNCLE.  175 

had  ridden  out  to  one  of  his  plantations  and  would  not 
return  before  noon.  So  he  decided  to  wait  and  dine  at 
Junkin's.  He  sat  nearly  opposite  Tolly  and  Bond. 
Less  conversation  than  usual  was  held  during  the  meal. 
Guthrie  occasionally,  while  making  or  listening  to  some 
'insignificant  remark,  looked  at  these  two  as  if  he  would 
notify  them  that  whatever  they  had  to  do  or  say  at  any 
time  about  any  matter  in  which  he  might  feel  himself 
to  be  concerned  there  were  limits  which  they  would  do 
well  to  observe.  They  ignored,  if  they  noticed  such 
menaces,  and  Bond  particularly  spoke  with  a  hilarity 
that  none  of  his  acquaintances  there  had  suspected  to  be 
in  his  nature.  Few  words  were  addressed  between 
them  directly.  Before  the  rest  had  finished,  Guthrie, 
rising  from  the  table,  said  : 

"  Mr.  Bond,  I  see  you  are  becoming  quite  familiar 
in  our  village  ;  I  am  glad  that,  small  as  it  is,  it  has 
attractions  to  draw  you  at  other  times  besides  court 
terms." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Guthrie,  thank  you ;  I  like  Clarke  some- 
how, and  then,  through  our  friend  Mr.  Tolly,  I  have 
been  put  into  some  little  business." 

"  With  promise  of  satisfactory  condemnation  money 
and  good  fees  for  you  both,  I  trust." 

"  Yes,  sir,  reasonable." 

"  In  cases  of  vej-y  uncertain  contingencies  I  think 
it  is  always  well  to  start  with  a  good  retainer  ;  don't 
you  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  when  a  client  is  able  to  respond  ;  but  when 
not  I  am  content  to  look  mainly  at  a  contingent  fee,  espe- 
cially when  I  suspect  that  he  has  not  been  treated  quite 
fairly." 


176  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  The  difficulty  is  that  clients  so  often  claim  that  to 
be  their  case." 

"  True,  sir ;  still,  occasionally  one  on  its  bare  presen- 
tation has  marks  that  seem  rather  distinct." 

"  Will  you  be  here  some  days  \ " 

"  One  longer,  certainly ;  most  probably  but  one." 

Bowing  generally,  Guthrie  then  went  out. 

"  That  was  about  as  much  talk  as  he  has  ever  honored 
me  with,"  whispered  Bond.  "He  has  a  good,  clear 
voice,  and  puts  his  words  together  very  well — very  well, 
indeed.  Do  you  think  that  he  suspects  what  is  up  ?  I 
take  it  that  he  does." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  no  doubt  of  it.  He  has  seen  or  heard  of 
the  notices.  If  he  hadn't  I  doubt  if  he  had  come  in 
here  to  dine,  knowing  that  he  would  meet  us  both.  He 
wants  to  give  notice  also." 

"  Yes ;  well,  we'll  admit  its  service." 

An  extended  conversation  was  had  between  Guthrie 
and  Mr.  Macfarlane.  The  latter,  as  we  have  seen,  had 
forborne  to  offer  his  counsel  to  Mrs.  Guthrie  except  upon 
occasions  whereat  he  felt  that  he  would  be  inexcusable 
to  remain  silent.  For  she  had  always  shown  impatience 
at  his  interference,  although  occasionally  acting  in  ac- 
cordance with  his  suggestions.  Mrs.  Macfarlane  Guth- 
rie did  not  even  ask  for  when  he  called  at  the  house. 
She  had  never  so  much  as  thought  of  offering  to  her 
sister  or  her  nephew  remonstrance  or  advice,  thankful 
to  live  upon  terms  of  respectable  friendship,  with  little 
show  of  natural  affection  omeither  side. 

"  Duncan,"  said  his  uncle,  among  other  things  "  the 
case,  if  these  young  men  understand  how  to  conduct  it, 
will  seem  to  outsiders  an  ugly  one,  whatever  are  to  be 


GUTHRIE  CONFERS   WITH   HIS  UNCLE.  177 

the  difficulties  from  lapse  of  time  and  the  absence  of 
direct  testimony.  The  public,  as  I  told  her  more  than 
once,  has  always  been  against  your  mother  in  the  esti- 
mate she  puts  upon  John  Stapleton,  and  the  treatment 
that  her  hostility  to  him  led  her  to  inflict  upon  poor 
Caroline.  I  doubt  if  in  this  whole  county  there's  a 
young  man  who  is  held  in  higher  estimation,  and  a  jury 
would  go  as  far  as  the  rulings  of  the  court  would  allow 
to  give  weight  to  every  species  of  evidence  that  will  be 
offered  in  support  of  his  claim.  Everybody  believes 
that  your  father,  if  he  had  been  of  entirely  clear  mind, 
wouldn't  have  made  a  will  by  whose  provisions  one  of 
his  children  could  be  made  rich  and  the  other  dependent 
wholly  upon  accident.  What  sort  of  a  man  is  this 
Bond  ?  Tolly,  they  say,  is  a  young  man  of  much  prom- 
ise. I've  heard  him  speak  two  or  three  times.  He 
seems  always  to  have  studied  his  cases,  and  he  is  cer- 
tainly eloquent.     What  about  the  other  ? " 

"I  know  little  about  him,  Uncle  Dennis,  and  I 
never  saw  him  until  our  March  term,  when  he  had  a 
little  case  that  was  settled.  I've  been  surmising  that 
his  coming  here  was  mainly  to  see  Miss  Jewell." 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Duncan,  from  what  I  have  heard, 
not  here  at  home,  but  outside,  that  you  and  that  young 
lady  some  time  back  were  a  little  imprudent  in  your 
deportment  toward  each  other.  A  man  and  a  woman, 
particularly  when  one  of  them  is  married,  can't  be  too 
guarded  in  their  intercourse." 

"  Possibly  we  may  have  been,  uncle ;  but  there's 
been  nothing  very  serious.  I  found  that  Alice  didn't 
like  the  woman.     She  saw  it  too,  and  that  ended  it." 

Nothing  more  was  said  about  Miss  Jewell.     Mr. 

12 


jYg  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

Macfarlane  ended  as  lie  had  begun,  by  urging  a  settle- 
ment, and  that  it  be  effected  as  speedily  as  possible. 

"  John  Stapleton  is  not  going  to  be  very  exacting ; 
and  you  see  from  his  application  for  guardianship  that 
although  entitled  by  law  to  prosecute  this  claim  in  his 
own  behalf,  he  intends  that  whatever  he  may  recover,  or 
at  least  a  part,  shall  go  to  his  children.  He  is  not  ex- 
acting, I  repeat ;  but  he  is  firm,  and  he  is  popular.  I 
have  little  or  no  influence  with  your  mother ;  and  I 
don't  know  to  what  extent  yours  may  lead  if  you  de- 
cide that  my  suggestions  are  of  any  importance." 

"  I  have  tried  several  times,  uncle,  during  Caroline's 
life-time,  to  get  mother  to  do  more  for  her,  but  always 
without  success,  except  that  she  offered  her  some  prop- 
erty for  her  separate  use  that  Caroline  refused  to  ac- 
cept." 

"  And  was  right  in  doing  it." 

"  I  don't  say  she  was  not,  uncle ;  still,  if  she  had,  it 
might  have  been  better." 

"  No ;  it  would  not.  It  would  have  made  it  appear 
that  Caroline  was  contented  to  see  her  husband  re- 
garded as  a  mere  tenant  by  courtesy,  which,  sensible 
woman  that  she  was  and  true-hearted  wife,  she  was  de- 
termined should  never  be.  Duncan,  acquaintance  with 
that  very  fact  adds  to  the  feeling  that  is  already  in 
men's  minds  against  your  mother's  side  of  the  case,  and 
it  has  already  hurt  you  and  will  hurt  you  more.  I 
am  obliged  to  talk  plainly,  because  I  think  I  can  fore- 
see that  if  this  matter  ever  gets  to  a  jury  there  will  be 
attendant  circumstances,  and  there  may  be  results  more 
unhappy  than  the  whole  property  is  worth.  You  may 
or  you  may  not,  just  as  you  think  best,  report  to  Hes- 


THE  EXECUTRIX'S  DEFENSE.  179 

ter  what  I  have  said.  I  shall  stand  ready  to  offer  any 
further  counsel  or  assist  in  any  mediation  with  Mr. 
Stapleton,  if  I  am  requested.  If  I  am  not,  I  cer- 
tainly shall  not  volunteer." 

Guthrie  spent  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  in  his  office. 
By  this  time  he  rather  wished  that  the  news  had  got 
to  his  mother,  for  he  dreaded  being  witness  to  the  ex- 
citement that  would  be  produced  at  his  announcement. 
It  was  after  sunset  when  he  entered  through  the  gate 
and  saw  her  walking  slowly  up  and  down  on  her  piazza. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE   EXECUTRIX'S   DEFENSE. 

Since  the  death  of  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Guthrie,  in 
spite  of  her  resistance  to  introspection,  had  been  hav- 
ing an  experience  far  different  from  any  that  she  had 
ever  counted  upon.  Her  singular  delusion  about  this 
daughter,  conceived  when  the  latter  was  an  infant  de- 
pendent upon  her  breast  and  resented  even  then,  had 
been,  as  has  been  seen,  a  source  of  greater  or  less  bit- 
terness always.  A  temper  irascible,  sensitive,  jealous, 
combative,  had  hindered  her  making  friendships  when 
young  with  those  of  either  sex,  and  her  family  felt  a 
sense  of  relief  when,  far  past  girlhood,  Mr.  Guthrie 
from  the  neighboring  county,  came,  and,  after  a  brief 
courtship,  married  and  took  her  away.  The  suspicion 
that  the  memory  of  his  first  wife  was  more  frequent 
and  more  fond  than  it  ought  to  be,  and  that  both  he 


180  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

and  her  first  child  felt  nearer  to  each  other  than  either 
was  to  herself,  had  such  results  as  we  have  heard  her 
admit.  From  the  date  of  this  imagined  discovery,  she 
had  tried  not  to  love  her  daughter,  and  she  believed 
that  she  had  succeeded.  Yet  she  prided  herself  that 
she  had  never  been  harsh  in  the  treatment  of  her.  She 
seemed  to  have  looked  upon  her  as  an  unlucky  accident 
that  had  befallen  her,  but  which,  being  inevitable,  must 
be  endured  as  she  endured  a  slight  unsightly  cast  in  one 
of  her  eyes.  Her  anxiety  lest  her  husband  would  pre- 
fer this  favorite  in  the  disposition  of  his  property  had 
been  intense,  and  had  so  continued  until  his  death. 
Thereafter  the  relations  between  herself  and  her 
daughter  were  as  those  between  a  wealthy  dowager  and 
an  orphan  whom  accidental  circumstances  had  devolved 
upon  her  hands,  to  whom  she  owed  nothing,  yet  for 
whom  without  complaint  she  was  providing  already, 
and  whom,  when  married,  she  expected  to  provide 
more  generously  than  Caroline  could  have  any  sort  of 
right  to  expect.  The  sense  of  victory  and  security  had 
subdued  her  resentment  except  to  the  degree  that  was 
necessary  to  the  justification  of  her  own  actions  in  her 
behalf.  She  was  pleased  that  people  called  her  beau- 
tiful and  lady-like.  She  cordially  wished  her  to  marry 
a  rich  husband,  not  less  for  her  daughter's  sake  than 
because  the  vast  distinction  she  intended  to  make  be- 
tween her  and  the  child  of  her  affection  in  the  distribu- 
tion of  her  property  might  be  less  subject  to  public 
commentation  and  blame.  The  girl  had  more  than 
one  offer  of  that  sort  among  the  extensive  property 
owners  in  that  county  and  beyond  Broad  Eiver.  "When 
John  Stapleton  offered  himself,  a  youth  with  almost  no 


THE  EXECUTRIX'S  DEFENSE.  181 

property  of  any  kind,  and  of  a  family  which,  although 
entirely  respectable,  was  not  of  their  set,  and  she  saw 
that  his  suit  was  favored,  disgusted  and  incensed,  she 
declared  to  both  that  if  they  married  they  should  never 
have  a  cent  of  her  property,  except  what  would  be 
enough  to  keep  Caroline  from  abject  want.  They 
waited  until  the  latter  was  one  and  twenty.  The  mother 
let  them  be  married  in  her  house,  although  she  would 
not  be  present  at  the  ceremony.  She  even  offered  to 
give  them  something  of  a  party ;  but  they  chose  to  be 
joined  privately  one  morning,  after  which  Stapleton 
took  his  wife  to  the  modest  home  that  he  had  prepared. 
His  apparent  indifference  toward  Mrs.  Guthrie,  both 
before  and  after  the  marriage,  had  offended  her  deeply 
and  pained  her  more  than  she  would  have  admitted. 
The  few  negroes  that  she  gave  had  been  sent  without 
any  message,  and  were  received  without  expression  of 
thanks  except  a  few  words  returned  by  the  daughter 
through  the  driver  of  the  wragon  that  brought  them. 
The  failure  of  her  prophecies  about  the  misery  that  was 
bound  to  follow  such  a  marriage  had  disgusted  her 
wTith  her  daughter  and  she  had  grown  to  cordially  hate 
the  latter" s  husband.  It  has  been  seen  how  she  behaved 
at  Mrs.  Stapleton's  unexpected  death.  The  fierce  assault 
made  by  remorse  and  the  wailing  utterance  within  her 
breast  from  an  affection  that  she  had  believed  to  have 
gone  thereout  must  be  resisted,  because  they  could  not 
be  endured.  It  was  for  these  that  she  poured  her  wrath 
against  John  Stapleton,  and  hid  herself  from  the  obse- 
quies of  his  wife.  Since  then  her  consolation,  such  as 
it  was,  consisted  in  increased  hatred  for  him  and  in- 
creased yearning  for  her  son.    In  this  while  she  seemed 


182  WIDOW  GUTIIR1E. 

to  have  grown  mucli  older.  Her  face,  although  maintain- 
ing its  redness,  had  become  more  thin  and  worn.  She 
was  more  often  silent,  less  stately  in  her  gait,  less  auto- 
cratic in  the  discipline  of  her  household.  Her  snow- 
white  gown  and  caps,  relieved  by  a  black  ribbon  here 
and  there,  made  it  interesting  to  note  how  her  scrupu- 
lous neatness  abated  not  amid  the  other  changes  that 
had  come  upon  her.  Companionship  with  Duncan's 
wife,  never  cordial  because  of  the  quick  detection  by 
each  of  the  other's  want  of  congeniality,  became  less  so 
now.  Her  intercourse  with  the  Macfarlanes,  except  a 
weekly  visit  from  Charlotte,  had  become  yet  more  in- 
frequent. Going  out  never,  she  eagerly  craved  the 
society  of  her  son,  to  whom  she  poured  out  her  feel- 
ings without  restraint,  and  it  was  evident  both  to  him 
and  herself  that  she  had  become  more  than  ever  de- 
pendent upon  him.  She  had  not  seen  the  babe  at  his 
house,  but  had  said  to  Duncan  that  the  sight  of  it  just 
yet,  especially  with  the  name  it  bore,  would  be  more 
than  she  could  bear.  It  was  for  a  double  reason,  there- 
fore, that  when  early  that  morning  she  received  a  note 
from  Duncan  that  Alice  had  gone  to  her  father's  and 
that  he  would  be  with  herself  that  night,  she  felt  a 
cheerfulness  sweeter  than  for  many,  many  months. 

"  Who  is  dat  I  ben  hearin'  a-singin'  in  de  house  ? " 
asked  Chloe,  the  cook,  of  Judy,  who  had  just  come  into 
the  kitchen. 

"  Ef  you'll  b'lieve  me,  Ann'  Chloe,  hit's  mistess.  I 
hain't  hear  miss  try  to  sing  befo',  not  sence  Marse  Dun- 
can got  married  en  went  off  to  live  long  him  en  Miss 
Alice.  I  declar'  it  sound  so  quar,  I  wouldn't  believed 
it,  widout  I  lookin'  at  her." 


TIIE   EXECUTRIX'S  DEFENSE.  133 

"  "Well,  I'm  glad  po'  mistess  ken  have  de  heart  to 
sing  wid  de  trouble  she  have  on  top  o'  her  min'." 

"  En  liit's  onlest  because  Marse  Duncan  saunt  her 
word  Miss  Alice  gone  to  her  pa's  en  he  gwine  come  en 
stay  here  whell  she  come  back.  She  told  me  tell  you 
be  monsous  particular  'bout  bavin'  good  supper  for 
him." 

"Well,  I'm  thankful  she  takin'  a  intruss  agin  in 
eat'n  o'  some  kind,  for  somebody.  Tell  her  I  say 
1  Yes'm.' " 

What  can  it  be  in  our  destinies  that  lets  us  be  wholly 
without  preparation  for  distressful  accidents,  and  which 
so  often,  just  before  their  approach,  diffuses  over  our 
hearts  an  unwonted  sense  of  freedom  from  anxieties '{ 
Mrs.  Guthrie  had  spent  the  day  in  almost  jubilant  ex- 
pectation. She  had  been  feeling  herself  drawn  more 
affectionately  toward  Alice  with  something  like  a  sense 
of  thankfulness  for  going  away  and  leaving  Duncan  all 
to  herself,  and  she  believed  that  kind  was  her  own 
thought  to  persuade  him  to  let  her  make  her  visit  as 
long  as  she  should  desire.  As  soon  as  he  came  within 
hearing  she  saluted  him. 

"  Why,  bless  your  heart !  I  don't  know  when  I 
had  such  a  pleasant  surprise  as  when  I  got  your  note 
this  morning.  Come  in.  Now,  throw  off  that  coat, 
and  put  on  this  grass  linen  you  see  I've  kept  for  you. 
I  know  you're  hot  from  working  all  this  warm  day  in 
that  hot  down-town." 

When  he  had  done  as  she  bade,  and  they  were 
seated,  she  said : 

"  I'm  glad  Alice  went ;  I  knew  she  expected  to  go 
some  time  before  long,  but  I  didn't  know  quite  so  soon. 


184  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

Poor  child  !  She  needed  some  rest  from  this  everlast- 
ing housekeeping,  that  a  body,  no  matter  how  much 
they  may  see  being  done,  is  always  seeing  something 
else  that  needs  it  as  bad.  I'm  glad  she  went ;  the  coun- 
try air  will  do  her  good — and  that  poor  little  baby  too, 
as  to  that.  Yes ;  she  needn't  have  sent  me  word  about 
her  going.  You  know  I  never  liked  to  say  good-by  to 
people,  and  may  be  I  might  have  felt  it  my  duty  to  tell 
her  to  bring  and  let  me  see  one  time — which  I  just 
couldn't  have  done,  and  I  don't  know  when  I've  felt  as 
calm  in  my  mind  as  I  have  to-day.  Are  you  right  well, 
Duncan  ?  You  don't  look  so  very  bright.  Been  feel- 
ing lonesome  about  Alice,  I  reckon ;  but  I  think  you 
might  be  satisfied  for  me  to  have  you  part  of  the  time. 
She  needed  the  rest,  and  if  I  was  in  your  place  I'd  let 
her  make  a  good  long  stay  of  it  if  she  wants  to.  Has 
anything  gone  wrong  that  you  look,  seems  to  me,  rather 
bothered  in  your  mind  ?  I've  been  thinking  all  day 
what  a  nice  good  time  we  were  going  to  have  for  a  while 
just  to  ourselves." 

"  Of  course,  mother,  a  man  must  feel  some  little 
lonesomeness  when  his  wife  has  just  gone  away  from 
him  upon  an  extended  visit.  But  I've  not  been  upset 
much  by  that.  Let's  have  supper  first.  I  ate  dinner 
at  Junkin's  to-day,  and  it  being  earlier  than  I'm  used 
to,  I  had  but  little  appetite.  I  was  thinking,  when  I 
came  in,  about  some  business  that  may  be  rather  trouble- 
some before  it's  finished.  We'll  talk  about  it  after  sup- 
per. How  are  you  this  evening,  mother  ?  You  are 
looking  well." 

"  Oh,  I'm  well  enough  !  "  she  answered  low,  show- 
ing that  the  cheer  in  which  she  had  been  had  suddenly 


THE   EXECUTRIX'S  DEFENSE.  185 

gone  from  lier.  She  called  to  Judy  to  hasten  supper, 
but  not  so  as  to  have  it  spoiled,  and  then  began  talking 
of  things  indifferent.  During  the  meal  ho  spoke  as 
usual,  but  she  detected  that  his  cheerfulness  was  unreal, 
and  she  made  brief  answers  to  his  words.  When  they 
had  retired  to  the  piazza  he  reported  to  her  the  posting 
of  the  notices  and  a  part  of  their  probable  meaning. 
He  spoke  with  as  much  indifference  as  he  could  assume, 
fearing  an  outburst  of  her  passion.  She  kept  entirely 
silent  until  he  was  through,  then  in  a  low  voice,  deter- 
mined to  restrain  as  much  as  possible  excitement  that 
she  knew  would  add  to  his  distress  and  her  own,  an- 
swered : 

"  Well,  that  don't  scare  me  !  Til  let  John  Stapleton 
know,  and  I'll  let  those  meddling  lawyers  know  that  if 
they  think  they  can  do  that  with  me,  they  know  nothing 
at  all  about  me.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  give  them 
children  five  or  six  thousand  dollars  apiece,  and  may  be 
more,  and  now  I'll  not  do  that  unless  this  mean  dis- 
graceful business  is  put  an  end  to.  I'm  ready  for  any 
sort  of  fight  they  want." 

He  had  hoped  that  the  news  would  have  caused  her 
to  have  some  apprehension  ;  so  he  said  : 

"  It  is  not  a  matter  of  mere  fight,  mother,  and  it  is 
not  worth  while  for  us  to  talk  in  defiance  of  people  who 
are  moving  according  to  the  set  forms  of  law.  The 
question  for  us  to  consider  first,  is  what  defense  we  can 
make  against  the  attack  that  is  to  be  made  against  fa- 
ther's will,  and  next,  how  much  we  are  willing  to  pay 
in  order  to  avoid  possibly  a  long,  certainly  an  exasperat- 
ing lawsuit,  that,  to  say  the  least,  will  endanger  your 
peace  of  mind." 


186  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  Endanger  my  peace  of  mind  !  "  she  replied,  in  yet 
lower  tone,  and  after  a  bitter  laugh  "  my  peace  of  mind  ! 
As  if  I  was  ever  let  have  any  of  that  since  I  was  a  little 
child ! " 

She  became  silent,  and  by  the  starlight  he  could  ob- 
serve the  heaving  of  her  bosom.  After  a  few  moments, 
she  took  out  a  large  white  silk  handkerchief,  and,  wip- 
ing her  eyes,  resumed : 

"  No,  /  never  knew  what  it  was  nor  what  it  meant 
to  have  peace  of  mind !  My  father,  nor  my  mother, 
nor  my  brother,  nor  my  sister,  not  one  of  them  ever 
loved  me  as  they  did  one  another,  nor  cared  a  straw 
whether  I  loved  them  or  not ;  and  they  were  every  one 
of  them  glad — as  I  always  knew  they  would  be,  when  I 
got  married  and  went  off  clean  away.  My  very  hus- 
band didn't  love  me  as  I  hoped  he  was  going  to ;  and 
even  before  his  first  child  was  born  I  had  the  very  in- 
stinct that  if  it  loved  me  at  all  it  wouldn't  love  me  like 
it  did  him ;  and,  sure  enough  when  it  came,  it  didn't 
and  never  did.  And  when  you  came,  and  I  found  at 
last,  at  last,  that  I  had  somebody  to  love  me  as  I  loved 
them,  they  had  me  scared  nearly  out  of  my  life,  one 
way  and  another,  that  you'd  get  cut  out  of  the  property. 
And  when  all  danger  of  that  was  over,  I  was  scared 
fearing  that  even  you  might  get  so  after  a  while  when  I 
began  to  get  old,  or  got  old,  you  wouldn't  be  to  me  al- 
ways as  you  was  then.  Wait  a  little  bit;  don't  say 
anything  yet ;  I'll  go  on  directly." 

She  rose  from  the  chair,  and  going  to  the  front  of 
the  piazza  looked  up  a  moment  or  two  at  the  stars,  then 
resuming  her  seat,  proceeded : 

"  To  go  back  to  Caroline.     Do  you  know  the  pains 


THE  EXECUTRIX'S  DEFENSE.  187 

I  took  with  that  child  ?  I  did  it  all  the  time  before 
your  father  died,  and  I  promised  him  I'd  keep  on  doing 
it  after  he  was  dead,  and  nobody  can  say  I  ever  broke 
my  word.  She  had  the  best  clothes  of  any  girl  in  this 
town.  I  sent  her  to  school  and  kept  her  at  school  un- 
til that  John  Stapleton  began  to  follow  her  around,  and 
she  had  as  good  an  education  as  any  girl  in  this  whole 
region  of  country  ever  had,  not  excepting  Charlotte 
and  Alice ;  and  I  took  pride  in  her  because  everybody 
praised  her,  and  I  knew  she  was  my  own  child.  But,  if 
you  believe  me,  I  was  always  anxious  about  her,  and 
afraid  that  she'd  at  last  do  something  to  make  me  think 
it  wouldn't  be  right  to  do  for  her  all  your  father  ex- 
pected of  me.  And  sure  enough  she  did,  and  then — ■ 
I  declare  it  seemed  that  it  all  came  about  just  to  hurt 
me  and  keep  me  hurt  in  my  very  soul  as  long  as  I'm  to 
live — the  poor  child,  after  she'd  had  two  children  by 
that  man,  lay  down  and  died,  when  I  was  no  more  ex- 
pecting such  a  thing  than  for  one  of  those  stars  you  see 
up  yonder  to  break  loose  and  fall  out  of  the  sky !  O 
my  God  !  my  God  !  Talk  to  me  about  peace  of  mind, 
Duncan  ?  To-day  I  did  think  I  was  beginning  to  have 
a  little  of  it ;  but  I  thought  even  then  it  wasn't  going 
to  last.  God  knows  what  little  of  that  I've  had,  has 
come  from  you.     Come  here  !  " 

As  he  approached  her,  she  reached  forth  both  her 
arms,  pressed  his  head  against  her  bosom,  and  groaned 
aloud.  A  moment  after,  loosing  him,  and  almost  push- 
ing him  away,  she  said  : 

"  That'll  do,  go  back,  and  don't  you  say  a  single 
word  to  me  until  I  tell  you  ;  I  want  to  think  a  while." 

She  walked  heavily  several  times  up  and  down  the 


188  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

piazza.     Suddenly  stopping  and  resuming  her  seat,  she 
turned  toward  him  and  asked : 

"  You  say  there  were  two  notices  ?  How  came 
that?" 

"  One  was  as  Caroline's  administrator,  and  the  other 
as  guardian  of  the  children." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  John  Stapleton  is  after  any 
of  the  property  for  himself,  his  lone  self,  do  you,  Dun- 
can?" 

"  His  asking  for  guardianship  would  seem  as  if  he 
was  moving  mainly  in  behalf  of  the  children.  Still  the 
law,  as  it  now  stands,  would  give  the  property — if  any 
should  be  recovered — to  him  as  administrator  of  Caro- 
line, which  means  the  same  as  turning  it  over  to  him 
personally." 

"  Well,  then,  he  shdnH  have  it !  " 

She  rose  again  and  traversed  the  piazza,  this  time 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  as  if  to  marshal  her  thoughts. 
Then,  going  up  and  standing  before  him,  she  said  : 

"  Duncan,  you  go  to  bed.  I  want  to  think  over  this 
thing  by  myself.  But  tell  me  first,  have  you  said  any- 
thing to  your  Uncle  Dennis  about  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother.     I  spoke  to  him  this  afternoon." 

"  What  did  he  say  ? " 

"  His  advice  is  to  offer  a  compromise." 

"  Yes  ;  his  advice  is  always  against  me  !  But  now 
let  me  tell  you — I'm  not  going  to  do  it !  Dennis  Mac- 
farlane  was  always  a  man  that  didn't  know  what  was 
best  even  for  himself,  let  alone  other  people,  and  my 
suspicion  is  he's  found  it  out ;  he  ought  to  by  this  time 
He  sees  how  I've  managed  this  property  better  than 
he's  managed  his  own,  and  he — don't  talk  to  me  about 


THE  EXECUTRIX'S  DEFENSE.  189 

Dennis  Macfarlane  and  his  advice  to  me  !  But  you  go 
along  to  bed,  child ;  I'll  let  you  know  in  the  morning 
what  I'm  going  to  do.  My  Lord  !  When  I  was  feeling 
so  easy  in  my  mind  about  your  coming  and  staying 
here  a  while  I  knew  all  the  time  that  something  was 
going  to  happen  to  spoil  it.  It's  always  been  so  with 
me,  I've  got  something  I  want  yon  to  do  ;  but  I'll  tell 
you  to-morrow.  Go  to  bed  and  get  some  rest.  And 
don't  you  go  to  sleep  thinking  I'm  scared ;  for  I  am 
not ! " 

He  went  off  to  bed. 

"  Judy,"  said  his  mother,  when  the  maid  had  come 
to  her  call,  "  put  your  cot  close  to  the  door  in  the  room 
behind  mine,  and  go  along  to  bed.  If  I  want  you  I'll 
call  you." 

For  several  hours,  with  a  black  shawl  around  her, 
she  walked  and  sat  alternately  on  the  piazza.  At  last 
she  went  in,  locked  the  door,  repaired  to  her  chamber, 
and  undressed  herself.  Trying  to  arrange  her  hair  for 
the  night-cap  as  it  was  done  usually  for  her,  and  dis- 
gusted that  she  could  not,  she  threw  down  the  comb  and 
brush,  seated  herself,  and  again  ruminated.  Late  in  the 
night,  taking  a  candle,  she  went  softly  up-stairs  to  the 
chamber  where  Duncan  lay.  Sitting  down  upon  the 
rail  of  the  bed,  she  looked  for  some  moments  upon  his 
handsome  face,  then,  passing  her  hand  over  it,  awak- 
ened him. 

"  Alice  ! "  he  said,  startled  ;  "  what's  the  matter  2 
Oh,  is  it  you,  mother  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  wonder  you  could  have  been  so  mistaken, 
even  between  sleep  and  awake.  I  come  to  tell  you, 
Duncan,  some  of  what  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  do. 


190  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

I  don't  suppose  the  case  is  going  to  come  up  right 
away ;  because  if  it  is,  I  want  you  to  go  straight  to- 
morrow after  Seaborn  Torrance.  You've  got  to  go  soon 
any  how  ;  but  I  don't  suppose  it's  necessary  to  break  off 
to  him  quite  yet,  is  it  % " 

"  Of  course  not,  mother,"  he  answered,  as  he  rose 
into  a  sitting  position. 

"  That  may  be  so,  or  it  may  not.  I  know,  from 
what  you  say  and  from  what  Dennis  Macfarlane  says, 
though  he  was  always  a  timid  and — I  don't  know 
what  else  sort  of  man — yet  I  can  see  that  there's  some 
danger  of  the  law  of  this  business.  There  always  is 
when  it  comes  to  the  case  of  a  woman,  especially  when 
she's  a  widow ;  and  I  reckon  that's  what  makes  'em  so 
willing  to  marry  again  when  they  have  lost  their  hus- 
bands. But  that's  neither  here  nor  there  to  me  that 
had  as  much  of  that  sort  of  experience  as  I  wanted, 
and  the  very  idea  of  marrying  again  has  always  been 
to  me — I'm  simply  speaking  for  myself — it's  been  noth- 
ing else  but  disgusting,  as  the  very  death !  As  a  widow 
I  have  fought  my  way  the  best  I  could,  and  I'm  ready 
to  do  it  again.  I  know  you  are  sleepy,  and  don't  want 
to  talk  about  business  this  time  of  night;  but  I  just  had 
to  tell  you  something  before  I  went  to  bed,  and  it's  this. 
Duncan,  you're  mistaken  if  you  think  I  haven't  been 
preparing  and  keeping  myself  prepared  for  such  as 
this  ;  and  I  come  to  tell  you.  Half,  at  least  half  of  the 
money  that  your  father  left  and  that  I  have  made  off 
the  property  is  in  this  house;  and  is  in  metal.  I've  put 
some  of  it  out  at  interest ;  but  I  know  how  to  shave 
notes  and  debts  as  well  as  anybody,  and  I'm  going  to 
gather  it  in  and  hide  it  along  with  the  balance ;  and 


THE  EXECUTRIX'S  DEFENSE.  191 

I'm  going  to  put  the  land  into  money,  and  do  the  same 
with  that.  I  thought  about  running  the  negroes  off 
to  Alabama  or  Mississippi,  bnt  somehow  I  haven't  the 
heart  to  do  that,  because  it  seems  like  the  poor  things 
feel  that  they're  dependent  upon  me,  and  they're  fond 
of  me — I  don't  know  what  for,  without  it's  because 
they  think  I'm  rich ;  and  then  they've  got  wives  and 
husbands  and  children  scattered  about  everywhere,  no- 
body knows  where,  and  I  just  haven't  the  heart.  So 
I  reckon  they'll  have  to  stay  as  they  are  ;  but  as  for  the 
balance,  John  Stapleton  may  take  it  out  in  whist- 
ling ! " 

He  pitied  her  too  much  to  say  anything  against  the 
practicability  of  her  proposed,  action.  He  tried  to  com- 
fort by  assuring  her  that,  however  the  case  might  re- 
result,  he  himself  could  get  much  more  than  half  of  the 
estate. 

"  Go  to  bed,  dear  mother,"  he  said,  "  and  get  some 
sleep,  which  it  is  plain  that  you  need.  You  are  already 
provided  against  the  worst.  AVe  can  keep  them  in 
court  as  long  as  we  please,  one  way  and  another,  and  I 
doubt  not  that  Jack  Stapleton  will  be  willing  to  accept, 
in  compromise,  whatever  you  may  at  last  decide  to  oiler 
to  the  children." 

"  To  the  children  ?  Yes.  But  to  him  ?  Kot  a  dollar 
will  I  compromise  this  side  of  my  grave ! " 

A  little  while  longer  she  sat  and  looked  at  him. 
Her  only  love,  the  sight  and  his  words  wrought  a 
calmness  which  was  exceeding  dear.  At  length  she 
said : 

"  And  you  think  you  can  stay  here  contented  a  while, 
and  not  be  longing  for  Alice  ? " 


192  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  My  dearest  mother,"  he  answered,  smiling,  "  I  act- 
ually haven't  thought  about  Alice  since  we  began  to  talk 
about  this  business." 

She  felt  like  embracing  him,  but  she  did  not.  Such 
as  that  had  always  been  embarrassing  to  her.  So,  with- 
out other  words,  she  rose  and  went  out.  Descending 
the  stairs  and  entering  the  room  where  her  maid  was 
asleep,  she  roused  her  with  these  words  : 

"  It  is  actually  astonishing  to  see  how  young  people 
and  niggers  can  sleep.  If  it  wasn't  for  old  people,  and 
white  at  that,  they'd  all  get  burnt  up  whenever  there's 
a  fire  in  the  night-time.  Judy,  go  to  the  kitchen  and 
fetch  me  some  hot  water.  I  told  Chloe  to  keep  a  pot 
on  the  fireplace.  You  needn't  blunder  about  and  wake 
her ;  but  go  and  get  it,  and  come  in  my  room  and  give 
my  feet  a  good  bathing." 

When  the  tub  was  brought,  while  she  lay  back  in 
her  chair  pointing  out  to  Judy  the  parts  of  her  limbs 
for  special  attention,  she  said : 

"  Judy,  if  I  was  to  break  up  housekeeping  and  want 
to  sell  out,  is  there  anybody  particular  who  you'd  want 
to  buy  you  %  " 

"  Law,  miss,  I  am'  been  even  studdin'  about  you 
breaking  up  your  house — fine  house  like  dis,  en  got  all 
you  want  in  it,  en  more  too." 

"  But,  suppose  the  sheriff  was  to  come  and  sell  me 
out.     Then,  what  ?  " 

"  Laws  of  mighty  mercies,  miss !  I  knowed  you 
want  well  de  minute  I  see^  you  not  eat'n  no  supper 
hardly  ;  en  I  knowed  it  agin  when  you  made  me  move 
my  cot ;  en  now  I  know  it  worse'n  befo',  you  talkin' 
dat  way;   for  because  you  'bleeged  to  know  in  your 


THE  NEED  OP  COUNSEL.  193 

mind  dat  I  wants  to  belong  to  nobody  exceptin'  o'  you, 
not  while  my  life's  a  livin'." 

"  I'm  not  sick,  nigger ;  I  was  just  fooling.  Stop 
and  dry  me  well  with  the  towel,  and  then  fix  my  hair." 

Shortly  afterward  she  was  abed,  soundly  sleeping. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

THE    NEED   OF   COUNSEL. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Guthrie  rose  early,  feeling 
more  refreshed  than  she  had  expected.  Taking  a  cup 
of  cotfee,  she  gave  orders  for  breakfast  to  be  delayed 
until  Duncan  should  awaken.  When  he  came  down, 
she  said  : 

"  Good  morning,  my  son.  I  wouldn't  let  you  be 
called,  because  I  wanted  you  to  get  a  plenty  of  sleep. 
Let's  go  in  and  get  something  to  eat.  It's  to  be  hoped 
that  Chloe  has  got  us  some  sort  of  a  breakfast." 

Half  an  hour  afterward,  while  Guthrie,  with  cigar 
just  lighted,  was  walking  on  the  piazza,  he  observed  a 
man  about  to  open  the  front  gate.  Descending  the 
steps  and  passing  over  the  walk,  he  said  : 

"  Well,  Simmons.     You  come  to  see  me  ? " 

"  No,  Mr.  Guthrie ;  I  came  to  serve  a  paper  on  your 
mother." 

"  All  right ;  hand  it  to  me,  and  I'll  give  it  to  her." 

"  Shall  I  enter  ( Left  at  the  abode,'  Mr.  Guthrie,  or 
will  you  acknowledge  service  for  her  ? " 

"  Either,  Simmons,  it  makes  no  difference ;  but  I 
13 


194  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

may  just  as  well  acknowledge  service,  and  if  you'll  call 
at  my  office  an  hour  from  now  I'll  do  so." 

The  man,  one  of  the  sheriff's  deputies,  went  on  back, 
and  Guthrie  returned  to  the  house.  His  mother,  as  he 
was  coming  up  the  steps,  asked  sternly  : 

"What  man  was  that,  Duncan,  and  what  did  he 
want  \ " 

"  It  was  a  deputy  sheriff,  mother,  who  wanted  to 
hand  me  some  documents." 

"  Wonder  why  he  couldn't  wait  till  you'd  had  time 
for  your  breakfast  to  settle,  and  go  down  town.  Is 
it  anything  concerning  of  me  ?  because  I  want  to  know 
everything  that  happens,  and  when  and  how  it  happens, 
and  I  want  it  to  come  facing  of  me." 

Tired  by  so  long  experience  of  her  impatient,  fiery 
energy,  he  answered  petulantly  : 

"  Mother,  I  have  only  run  over  the  indorsement  on 
the  back  of  the  paper,  and  noticed  that  it  was  a  bill  in 
equity — a  thing  I  was  expecting,  but  not  quite  so  soon. 
I  can  study  it  at  my  office  better  than  I  can  here.  Be- 
sides, I  have  an  appointment  there  at  half-past  nine, 
with  a  client.  As  soon  as  I  can  find  time  for  it,  I  will 
look  over  the  thing  and  report  to  you  at  dinner ;  or 
sooner  if  you  wish.  I  don't  see  the  use  of  talking  to 
me  as  if  you  had  no  confidence  in  me." 

"  Why,  Duncan,"  she  responded,  instantly  softened, 
"  confidence  in  you  f  The  Lord  knows  that  you  are  the 
only  one  that  I  leave  got  complete  confidence  in.  I'm 
just  excited  and  worried,  and  I've  no  doubt  I  spoke  too 
hasty.  Go  on  to  your  business.  You  needn't  to  come 
up  here  before  dinner-time,  without  it's  necessary,  as 
I've  no  idea  it  wall  be.      I  understand  them.     They 


THE  NEED  OF  COUNSEL.  195 

would  like  to  scare  people ;  but  Fm  older  than  any  of 
them,  and  have  seen  folks  before  they  were  born." 

Then  she  went  back  into  the  house.  As  Duncan 
turned  from  the  gate,  Mr.  "Wendell  and  Miss  Jewell 
entered  the  street  on  the  opposite  side.  A  double  pain 
shot  through  his  heart ;  he  felt  intense  regret  both  that 
his  father  had  not  died  intestate  and  that  his  eye  had 
ever  rested  upon  that  young  woman.  He  hastened  for- 
ward, as  he  must  have  saluted  this  party  if  their  eyes 
had  met.  He  could  hear  Miss  Jewell's  voice,  clear,  and 
refined,  as  she  chatted  with  her  cousin,  and  he  made 
greater  haste.  When  he  reached  his  office,  taking  out 
the  paper  which  the  officer  had  served,  he  read  it  care- 
fully. 

A  bill  in  equity,  as  is  known  to  those  who  are  at 
all  familiar  with  judicial  investigations,  is  a  petition 
wherein  a  complainant  asks  for  special  aid  and  protec- 
tion from  the  court  in  cases  wherein  an  ordinary  action 
according  to  set  forms  of  proceeding  at  Common  Law 
is  alleged  or  apprehended  to  be  insufficient.  The  one 
in  this  case  was  named  A  Bill  for  Discovery,  Account, 
Belief,  and  Injunction.     It  alleged  : 

That  Alan  Guthrie,  owner  of  property  of  several 
sorts  to  the  amount  of  at  least  two  hundred  thousand 
dollars,  had  deceased,  leaving  a  widow  and  two  minor 
children,  Caroline  and  Duncan. 

That  the  wife,  Hester  Guthrie,  after  his  decease  pro- 
pounded in  the  Court  of  Ordinary  of  the  county  a  paper 
purporting  to  be  his  last  will  and  testament,  which,  by 
proof  in  common  form,  had  been  admitted  to  probate, 
and  letters  testamentary  had  been  issued  to  her  as  the 
executrix  named  therein ;  and  that  the  estate  at  the  pres- 


19G  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

ent  time  was  believed  to  amount  to  the  value  of  not  less 
than  three  hundred  thousand  dollars. 

That  at  the  time  of  the  signing  of  the  paper  Alan 
Guthrie  was  so  prostrated  by  various  bodily  and  men- 
tal infirmities  that  he  was  not  of  that  degree  of  sound- 
ness of  memory  required  by  law  in  a  testator  at  the 
execution  of  a  last  will  and  testament,  but  that  the 
said  Hester,  taking  advantage  of  his  infirm  condition, 
had  acquired  over  him  an  influence  which  he  was  not 
strong  enough  to  resist,  and  thus  compelled  him  to  sign 
the  fraudulent  paper  by  which  his  whole  estate  was  be- 
queathed to  herself  to  the  exclusion  of  his  other  as 
rightful  heirs  from  any  part  thereof. 

That  the  testator  while  in  life,  as  was  well  known  to 
all  his  friends  and  acquaintances,  had  had  much  affec- 
tion for  his  children,  and  that  to  some  of  the  former 
during  his  decline  he  had  expressed  apprehension  that 
injustice  would  be  done  by  his  wife,  particularly  to 
his  daughter  Caroline,  against  whom  she  had  ever  in- 
dulged a  prejudice  without  just  foundation,  and  for 
that  reason  he  had  executed  a  paper  in  which  he  had 
deputed  her  to  divide  his  estate  equally  among  herself 
and  his  children,  which  sayings  of  the  testator  Avere 
made  in  the  hearing  of  several  witnesses  (some  now 
living)  after  the  date  whereon  said  pretended  last  will 
and  testament  purported  to  have  been  executed,  all 
which  tended  to  show  that  he  did  not  fully  under- 
stand the  provisions  in  that  paper  contained,  and  that 
many  other  things  done  and  said  by  the  testator  ante- 
rior and  subsequent  to  its  date  left  no  doubt  that  he 
was  wholly  incompetent  for  the  execution  of  a  last  will 
and  testament  of  any  sort. 


TIIE  NEED  OP  COUNSEL.  197 

After  alleging  the  marriage  and  deatli  of  Caroline, 
leaving  a  husband  and  two  children,  and  their  failure 
to  receive  their  just  portion  of  the  estate,  the  hill  prayed 
that  the  said  pretended  last  will  and  testament  be  set 
aside,  the  testamentary  letters  be  revoked,  that  an  ac- 
count be  required  from  the  executrix  of  her  actings  and 
doings  in  the  management  of  the  estate,  and  of  the  in- 
terest and  other  prolits  that  had  accrued  since  the  death 
of  decedent ;  and  that  respondent  be  required  to  answer 
under  oath  all  the  allegations  in  said  bill  contained,  and 
that  she  be  enjoined,  under  such  penalty  as  the  court 
should  deem  sufficient,  from  selling,  removing,  or  other- 
wise disposing  of  any  portion  of  the  estate  except  under 
decree  of  the  court. 

The  concluding  prayer  was  for  such  other  and  fur- 
ther relief  as  the  judge,  sitting  as  a  court  of  Chancery, 
might  deem  necessary  for  complainants. 

The  bill  was  in  the  name  of  John  Stapleton  in  his 
own  right,  as  administrator  of  Caroline  Stapleton,  and 
as  guardian  of  the  minor  children  left  by  her.  It  was 
signed  by  Thomas  Tolly  and  Christopher  Bond,  solicitors. 

Sick  at  heart,  Guthrie,  putting  the  document  upon 
his  table,  paced  about  the  room,  pondering  the  blow 
that,  so  long  delayed,  had  fallen  at  last  suddenly  and 
with  a  force  that  seemed  to  him  as  cruel  and  revenge- 
ful as  it  was  appalling.  Several  times  he  went  to  the 
door  and  looked  out.  It  was  anguish  to  him  to  see 
men  walking  about  doing  and  chatting,  some  of  them 
laughing,  as  if  nothing  unwonted  had  happened.  After 
some  time,  closing  his  office,  he  went  up  to  his  own 
residence.  His  judgment  was  that  if  the  allegations  in 
the  bill  could  be  substantiated  even  partially,  his  mother 


198  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

must  be  defeated ;  for  it  must  appear  that  his  f ather  m 
executing  the  paper,  even  if  proved  to  have  been  of  dis- 
posing memory,  intended  to  constitute  the  executrix 
as  trustee  of  two  thirds  of  the  estate  for  the  benefit 
of  his  children.  How  to  deal  with  her,  so  passionate, 
so  fearless,  so  defiant  of  other's  opinions,  so  incapable 
of  denying  solemnly  anything  that  she  had  done,  so 
resolute  to  maintain  it  without  avoidance  or  compro- 
mise, so  apt  to  resort  to  desperate  expedients,  perplexed 
him  sorely.  He  sat  upon  his  piazza,  or  moved  about 
the  house  and  grounds  the  rest  of  the  forenoon.  He 
had  never  thought  to  feel  as  now  the  absence  of  his 
wife.  It  seemed  as  though  she  had  been  gone  a  long- 
time already.  Never  before  had  he  felt  how  necessary 
she  was  to  his  being,  how  dear  to  him.  He  put  his 
hands  upon  several  things  which  she  often  used — things 
on  her  bureau,  on  the  piano,  and  the  parlor  center-table. 
Raising  the  piano  lid,  he  discovered  her  handkerchief 
which  had  been  left  when  she  had  closed  it  last.  He  put 
it  to  his  face  and  smelled  the  delicate  perfumery.  Fold- 
ing it  carefully,  he  put  it  into  his  pocket,  shut  the  piano 
again,  and  left  the  house.  On  the  way  to  his  mother's, 
it  was  some  relief  to  remember  that  on  the  night  before 
she  had  spoken  of  retaining  in  her  case  the  lawyer  Sea- 
born Torrance.  He  commended  her  sagacity  in  fixing . 
upon  such  a  man,  and  he  was  eager  to  have  as  soon  as 
possible  the  help  of  his  counsel. 

In  spite  of  his  efforts  to  appear  cahn,  she  detected 
at  a  glance  the  anxiety  upon-  his  mind.  "When  he  had 
reported  what  was  alleged  and  claimed  by  the  bill  in 
equity,  she  was  silent  for  several  moments,  then,  with 
a  sad,  bitter  smile,  said  : 


THE  NEED  OP  COUNSEL.  199 

"  "Well,  if  I  am  to  have  to  make  another  fight  in  my 
old  age,  I'll  show  those  people  and  all  the  rest  of  them 
some  things  that  will  be  interesting.  Now  there  isn't  go- 
ing to  be  one  single  particle  of  doubt  about  that.  As  for 
Judge  Ansley  sending  his  sheriff  to  me  with  his  paper, 
ordering  me  what  to  do  and  what  not  to  do  with  what's 
mine — but  come,  let's  have  dinner.  I  told  them  to  have 
it  ready  a  little  before  one,  as  I've  hardly  ate  enough 
since  yesterday  dinner  to  keep  a  cat  alive,  much  less 
a  woman  that's  got  on  her  hands  what's  on  mine,  and 
I'm  hungry.  "What  I  want  to  say  now  is  that  I  want 
you — this  evening  or  to-morrow  morning  early — to  take 
your  sulky,  and  go  straight  for  Seaborn  Torrance,  and 
bring  him  right  here  to  me.  I  told  him  when  he  was 
here  last  court,  that  if  I  ever  had  a  lawsuit  that  was 
important,  I'd  want  him,  and  he  promised  that  when- 
ever I  sent  for  him,  he'd  come  right  away  if  he  wasn't 
too  busy  with  something  else.  I  want  the  best  lawyer 
that  can  be  got,  and  from  what  I've  heard  about  him 
he's  that.  He  knows  when  and  how  to  talk,  and  how 
and  when  to  bring  on  and  put  off,  and  never  give  up. 
I'll  send  him  by  you  a  thousand  dollars,  and  you  tell 
him  there's  more  where  that  came  from.  That's  all 
I've  got  to  say  now.     Come  along  to  dinner." 

He  was  gratified  at  the  subsidence  of  her  excite- 
ment, for  he  had  feared  that  it  might  lead  to  indiscreet 
action.  She  relished  the  good  dinner  that  had  been 
provided,  and  kept  urging  him  to  try  to  do  the  same. 
Some,  only  a  little  reprehension  of  his  distrust  and  tim- 
idity was  in  her  words  and  manner.  During  the  after- 
noon and  evening  she  exhibited  the  kind  of  cheerful- 
ness that  in  the  being  of  the  intrepid  comes  with  the 


200  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

threat  of  danger.  Occasionally  she  would  give  way, 
but  only  briefly,  to  resentment,  which  contempt  hin- 
dered from  reaching  exasperation. 

"  Poor  John  Stapleton  !  You  know,  Duncan,  that 
if  I  didn't  despise  the  creature  so  from  my  heart,  I 
almost  feel  like  I  could  get  sorry  for  him  ?  My  sus- 
picion at  the  time  about  Caroline  was  that  she  wasn't 
exactly  in  her  right  mind  when  she  let  herself  down  to 
marry  such  a  thing  as  him,  whether  or  no.  Decent 
born  as  she  was,  of  course  she  was  obliged,  living  with 
him,  to  hold  him  back  from  some  of  his  savage  wild- 
ness,  but  now,  here,  as  soon  as  the  breath  is  out  of  her 
body,  to  come  at  me  with  his  notices,  and  his  citations, 
and  his  bills  of  equities,  or  what  you  mind  to  call  'em, 
and  think  to  scare  me  !  " 

In  the  midst  of  such  speeches  her  fan  would  fly 
like  that  of  a  winnowing  machine,  and  the  laugh  that 
followed  gave  whatever  relief  was  possible.  It  was 
evident  to  her  son  that  she  was  trying  to  impart  to  him 
some  of  her  own  courage,  both  for  his  own  comfort, 
and  to  render  him  more  competent  for  his  part  of  the 
work  in  hand  and  to  come.  To  her  question  how  long 
the  case  could  be  kept  in  court,  provided  she  should  so 
desire,  he  answered  that  that  would  depend  upon  cir- 
cumstances.    She  replied : 

"Well,  from  what  I've  been  told  about  Seaborn 
Torrance,  he's  the  very  man  to  help  get  them  up.  As 
for  those  children,  now  their  poor  mother  is  dead,  I've 
been  intending  to  give  them  a  good  deal  more  than  I 
ever  expected  to  do ;  but  to  be  settled  so  that  John 
Stapleton  was  to  have  not  one  blessed  thing  to  do  with 
it.     You  know  he's  going  to  marry  again,  and  keep  on 


THE  NEED  OP  COUNSEL.  201 

marrying  as  long  as  lie  keeps  on  killing  up  women  that 
think  no  more  of  themselves  than  to  be  his  wives." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he's  pretty  sure  to  marry  again — but  kill- 
ing his  wives  ?     What  do  you  mean  by  that,  mother  ? " 

"I  mean  nothing — that  is  nothing  so  very  particular, 
Duncan,  that  you  look  at  me  so  strange.  I  don't  mean 
that  the  creature  actually  took  up  a  stick  and  knocked 
her  brains  out,  or  even  poisoned  her,  or  smothered  her ; 
but  he  just  wore  the  poor  thing  out  with  trying  to  make 
something  of  a  decent  man  out  of  him  and  dying  in  the 
attempt.  And  besides  all  that,  I  wasn't  satisfied  and  I 
never  will  be  satisfied  about  her  dropping  off  in  that 
way  all  so  sudden.  From  the  way  they  told  me  she 
was  first  taken,  she  had  nothing  in  this  world  but  milk 
fever,  and  I  can't  but  have  my  suspicions  that  he,  or  his 
old  mother,  and  may  be  the  doctor — God  Almighty 
knows,  I  don't — but  among  'em  they  got  to  projecking 
and  fooling  with  the  case,  and  the  first  thing  they  knew, 
they  killed  her.  If  that  man  had  anything  to  do  with 
it — and  I'm  not  accusing  him  nor  reusing  him — but  if 
he  did,  it  was  because  he  saw  that  he  wasn't  going  to 
get  any  more  property  by  her." 

"Oh,  dear  mother,  he  was  entirely  innocent  of 
everything  like  that !  " 

"  I  don't  say  he  wasn't,  Duncan.  I  told  you  I  wasn't 
accusing;  him  nor  excusing  him.  That's  between  him 
and  his  God.  I  was  glad  I  didn't  see  him  the  day  I  was 
there,  and  she  laid  out.  I  was  mighty  nigh  distracted 
any  how,  and  I  might  have  used  words  which  of  course 
I  couldn't  prove.  Well,  well,  well,  don't  let  us  talk 
about  the  thing  any  more.  You  start  soon  in  the  morn- 
ing for  Seaborn  Torrance." 


202  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

She  turned  away  from  the  subject,  and  made  no  fur- 
ther reference  to  it  during  the  remainder  of  the  day. 

Simultaneously  with  Guthrie's  departure  in  search 
of  the  lawyer  who  was  to  be  his  colleague,  Bond  left  for 
Augusta.  The  equity  proceeding  had  been  begun  some- 
what sooner  than  might  have  been  had  he  not  other  busi- 
ness which  he  thought  to  require  early  attention.  He 
had  called  upon  Miss  Jewell  twice  since  the  visit  on  the 
evening  of  his  arrival,  once  in  company  with  Tolly. 
His  persistent  suit,  aided  by  solemn  remonstrances  from 
her  sister,  had  impressed  her  perceptibly,  although  she 
still  avowed  her  resolution  to  remain  single.  On  this 
last  visit,  in  which  Tolly  accompanied,  the  latter  had  a 
long  conversation  with  her  while  Bond  chatted  apart 
from  where  they  sat  with  Anna  Wendell.  After  they 
had  left,  Tolly  said  that  he  felt  almost  sure  that  he 
would  prevail. 

"  I  try  to  hope  so,  Tolly,  although  I  can't  get  her  to 
say  a  word  to  warrant  it." 

"Nor  I,  directly;  but  I  could  see  from  her  looks  at 
you  when  I  was  talking  about  you,  and  her  confused 
irregular  answers  to  me,  that  her  affections  are  entirely 
yours,  and  that  she  will  be  obliged  to  follow  them,  re- 
sist them  as  she  is  doing,  most  unreasonably,  I  think." 

k'  No,  Tolly  no,  sir ;  I've  been  thinking  about  it  a 
great  deal,  and  I'll  be  cursed  if  I  haven't  rather  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  woman  is  right,  hard  as  it  is  on 
me.  She  wants  the  field  perfectly  clear,  and  she  doesn't 
see  how  it  can  be  made  so ;  and  I  admire  and  love  her 
the  more  for  it.  Why,  sir,  what  do  you  suppose  she  said 
to  me  last  night  ?  '  Mr  Bond  '  said  she  '  I  could  tell  you 
something  that  would  make  you  agree  with  me  that  I 


TIIE  NEED  OP  COUNSEL.  203 

ought  not  to  many.'  By  George !  that  scared  me,  because 
1  was  afraid  she  was  going  to  tell  me  and  then  ask  for  a 
pledge  to  do  nothing  with  Guthrie.  I  answered  her 
that  I  didn't  wish  to  hear  a  single  word  against,  but 
whatever  I  could  in  favor  of  her  marrying  me.  Tears 
were  in  her  eyes.  I  couldn't  stand  it ;  so  I  trumped  up 
some  sort  of  lie  that  you  were  expecting  me,  and  I  got 
away  as  soon  as  I  could.  But  I'm  thankful  that  you 
think  favorably  of  the  case.  Their  school  term  ends  in 
about  a  week  ;  but  she  says  she's  not  going  to  Augusta, 
except  for  a  short  visit  toward  the  last  of  her  vaca- 
ation.  It  is  plain  to  me  that  she  intends  to  live  it  out, 
God  bless  her  !  By  the  way,  you  ought  to  hear  how  she 
praises  Miss  Macfarlane,  and  you  also,  confound  you ! 
She  says  you  two  are  bound  to  marry  each  other  if  you 
both  live  a  year  or  two  longer.  I  asked  her  to-night, 
the  little  time  I  had  with  her,  how  she  thought  this  case 
would  affect  your  prospects.  She  answered,  not  at  all,  or, 
if  anything,  would  assist  them.  She  says  that  the  whole 
family  are  against  Guthrie's  mother  in  the  treatment  of 
her  daughter,  and  Stapleton  also.  Put  that  in  your  pock- 
et. And  so,  my  dear  Tolly,  with  such  hopes  and  a  good 
law  case,  give  me  your  hand.  There ;  I  feel  another 
sort  better  than  I  did  when  I  first  got  into  this  town." 

He  waved  adieu  as  he  drove  by  the  house  on  the 
next  morning.  Mr.  Wendell,  who  yet  knew  of  no  spe- 
cial difficulty  in  the  way,  said  after  he  had  passed  : 

"  Sarah,  it  is  plain  to  me  that  that  man  wants  to 
marry  you,  and  if  he  does,  I  think  you  ought  to  consider 
well  before  you  reject  his  suit." 

With  her  folded  fan  she  patted  his  cheek  playfully, 
then  went  in  for  her  bonnet. 


204  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

ALICE   JOURNEYS   TO   BROAD    RIVER. 

In  her  preparation  for  departure  Alice  busied  her- 
self for  the  baby  more  than  for  herself.  Instead  of 
Marcus,  the  carriage  was  driven  by  the  husband  of 
Eliza,  because  the  mistress  was  not  willing  to  separate 
them  from  each  other.  Susie,  another  of  the  house 
servants,  was  taken  along  to  assist  in  nursing.  Marcus, 
as  Aunt  Hitter  would  have  guessed,  was  well  pleased 
secretly,  because  the  journey  would  have  taken  him  too 
long  away  from  the  "ladies"  and  "females"  of  Clarke, 
and  forced  him  to  try  to  be  content  with  what  society 
could  be  had  among  those  beyond  Broad  River.  The 
two  babies  were  provided  with  abundant  outfits,  and 
the  extremest  care  was  observed  that  they  should  not 
be  hurt  in  this  their  first  exposure  to  the  perils  of  a 
day's  travel.  It  was  a  mild  morning,  the  sun  through- 
out the  day  not  shining  too  hot  for  the  comfort  of  the 
horses  as  they  walked  up  the  hills  and  trotted  leisurely 
along  the  stretches  of  level. 

The  cool  shades  through  woods,  and  along  their 
edges,  the  liquid  fragrance  from  myriads  of  leaves  and 
wild  flowers,  and  the  gleeful  music  all  along  were 
enough,  to  make  a  thoughtful  mind  have  a  sense  of  re- 
ligious thankfulness.  Yet  Alice  was  sad  throughout 
her  journey,  except  when  busy,  or  imagining  she  ought 
to  be  busy,  with  her  charge.  Even  the  sweet  prospect 
of  soon  being  at  her  native  home  was  saddened  by 
thoughts  of  the  life  that  she  had  been  leading  since  she 
had  left  it.     It  would  have  frightened  her  too  much  if 


ALICE  JOURNEYS  TO  BROAD  RIVER.  205 

she  had  felt  that  her  heart  was  not  loyal  as  ever  to  the 
husband  who  had  taken  her  thence,  notwithstanding  the 
disappointments  that  had  befallen. 

The  sun  lacked  half  an  hour  of  setting  when,  having 
crossed  the  river  by  ferry,  the  travelers,  turning  toward 
Dove  Creek,  arrived  at  their  destination.  Xearly  midway 
in  a  plantation  of  several  thousands  of  acres,  on  a  high 
plateau  surrounded  by  oaks  and  hickories,  interspersed 
with  poplars  and  chestnut  trees,  was  the  large  mansion, 
its  perfect  white  making  pleasing  contrast  with  the 
varying  green  around.  Below  and  above  was  a  wide 
piazza  extending  along  three  sides,  at  either  end  of  the 
lower  being  a  long  one-story  room,  and  between  these 
another  piazza  whereon,  when  the  weather  suited,  the 
family  were  accustomed  to  take  their  meals.  Outside 
were  signs  of  wealth  as  unostentatious  as  abundant ; 
within,  furniture  massive  and  of  a  style  which  had  out- 
lived others  more  ornate  but  less  tasteful  and  less 
adapted  to  comfortable  uses.  The  dining-table  stood  al- 
ways extended  beyond  the  needs  of  the  family  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  any  one  or  more  of  the  neighbors,  rich 
or  poor,  who  might  drop  in  by  invitation  or  chance  at 
meal  times ;  for  already  there  obtained  among  the  cult- 
ured and  wealthy  of  that  region  the  custom  of  dispensing 
a  hospitality  that  became  so  important  in  the  making  of 
the  people  of  middle  Georgia.  The  family  now  resi- 
dent there  was  limited  to  the  parents  and  two  sons,  one 
who  would  graduate  at  the  State  College  after  two 
years  longer.  Two  miles  away,  with  his  own  family, 
was  the  other,  who  already  had  become,  like  his  father, 
a  successful  planter  and  leading  citizen. 

All  sadness,  for  a  time,  must  be  driven  away  by  the 


206  WIDOW  GUTIIRIE. 

welcome  extended  by  all — parents,  brother,  slaves,  the 
affection  of  the  last  mentioned  of  whom  the  true-hearted 
Georgian  always  prized,  and  wherever  he  is  living  now, 
cherishes  with  fondness  its  recollection.  Cordial  as  to 
her  was  the  welcome  to  the  baby,  the  getting  out  for 
whom  of  things  that  had  been  lying  in  ancient  chests 
and  drawers  was  to  have  no  end.  For  a  time  Alice 
felt  as  she  used  to  feel  in  her  girlhood  without  thought 
of  the  troubles  already  known  and  without  apprehen- 
sion of  the  greater  that,  already  near,  were  to  follow. 
Her  father  was  tall  and  massive,  with  little  diminution 
of  vigor  and  activity ;  his  countenance  showed  firmness 
and  benignity.  Her  mother,  of  about  her  own  height 
and  figure,  seemed  somewhat  younger  than  she  was  in- 
deed, and  much  younger  than  her  husband,  although 
there  was  a  difference  in  their  ages  of  less  than  ten 
years,  her  hair  being  slightly  turned,  while  his  had  be- 
come nearly  all  white.  To  see  the  two  together  for 
only  an  hour,  one  must  observe  that  their  domestic  life 
had  been  one  of  affection,  trust,  and  peace. 

It  is  not  in  the  nature  of  such  a  woman  as  Alice 
Guthrie  to  live  without  confiding  or  wishing  to  con- 
fide to  somebody  the  secrets  of  her  emotions,  especially 
her  sufferings  and  anxieties.  Away  from  her  native 
home,  at  which  never  had  been  a  secret  that  was  not 
known  to  every  member  of  the  family,  in  the  society 
wherein  she  had  been  living  there  had  been  but  one  with 
whom,  if  their  separate  conditions  and  circumstances, 
though  nearly  allied,  had  not  been  so  widely  different, 
she  would  have  lived  in  the  free  intimacy  out  of  which 
is  wont  to  come  so  much  consolation  in  distress. 
Many  a  time  had  she  yearned  to  tell  Caroline  Staple- 


ALICE  JOURNEYS  TO  BIIOAD  RIVER.  207 

ton  what  she  must  withhold  about  herself  and  the  com- 
passion she  felt  for  her,  although  knowing  that  she 
lived  a  far  happier  life  than  her  own  was  or  than  she 
ever  hoped  for  it  to  become.  Even  as  it  was,  a  sym- 
pathy had  been  between  them  which  now  it  was  dear 
to  her  to  recall,  and  she  was  thankful  that  in  the  care 
of  this  infant  she  was  rendering  some  compensation, 
slight  as  it  was,  for  the  injustice  that  had  been  put  upon 
its  mother  by  her  family.  Yet  in  her  experience  there 
was  a  thing  which  she  never  could  have  imparted  to 
but  one,  and  it  was  she  from  whom,  until  her  marriage, 
not  a  feeling  or  impulse  of  her  breast  had  ever  been 
withheld.  In  the  face  of  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Ludwell, 
despite  the  childlike  happiness  at  being  there  again, 
had  detected  evidences  of  care  beyond  what  comes  nat- 
urally along  the  line  of  married  life.  Tears  were  in 
her  eyes  several  times  as  she  looked  into  the  faces  of 
her  parents  and  at  old  familiar  things  in  the  house, 
showing  that  her  heart  was  too  full  of  gratitude  for 
being  again  in  that  loved  presence,  and  on  that  first 
night,  even  if  both  had  wished  and  tried  to  delay,  they 
would  not  have  been  able  to  forbear,  the  one  from 
asking  and  the  other  from  answering  heart  to  heart. 
Already  her  parents  knew,  what  before  her  marriage 
they  had  known  only  in  part,  of  the  relations  main- 
tained by  Mrs.  Stapleton  with  her  mother  and,  to  a  less 
degree,  with  her  brother,  and  they  felt  a  disgust  which, 
though  not  as  painful,  was  as  decided  as  her  own. 
Then  to  them  much  more  than  to  her  had  come  whis- 
perings of  Duncan's  deportment  toward  young  women, 
including  Emily  Simkins,  which,  had  they  been  heard 
in  time,  inquired  into,  and  found  or  suspected  to  be 


208  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

be  upon  good  foundation,  would  Lave  prevented  their 
consent  to  the  marriage.  Latterly  other  rumors,  though 
of  not  such  gross  kind,  had  reached  them,  and  tilled  the 
mother  especially  with  anxiety. 

The  evening  was  given  up  to  congratulations  and 
affectionate  chattings.  They  sat  on  the  piazza,  so 
much  more  peaceful  than  the  one  in  which  during  the 
same  evening  Guthrie  was  listening  as  his  mother 
poured  forth  her  bitterness  and  resentment.  The 
night's  loveliness  must  have  been  remarked  by  all  but 
that  it  was  common  to  the  nights  of  the  season  through- 
out that  region.  Their  talk  was  of  pleasant  news  that 
every  one  had  to  give  about  pleasant  things,  or  of  Caro- 
line Stapleton,  her  husband  and  children.  To  a  ques- 
tion of  her  father  about  Stapleton,  she  answered : 

"  Father,  he  is  a  man  among  a  thousand  !  I've  not 
seen  anywhere  one  whose  appearance  and  whose  de- 
portment discover  the  gentleman  more  clearly.  Sister 
Caroline  was  most  dearly  devoted  to  him,  and  well  she 
might  have  been  ;  for  if  I  ever  met  a  man  more  capa- 
ble of  winning  and  keeping  the  whole  heart  of  such  a 
woman  as  she  was,  I  don't  remember.  He  is  extremely 
handsome,  too — perhaps  I  should  rather  say  manlike — 
courteous  in  his  manners,  and  one  to  be  trusted  to  the 
very  last  degree." 

No  allusion  was  made  to  the  treatment  which  their 
family  had  received,  nor  to  the  lawsuit  that  seemed 
about  to  begin.  This  must  be  postponed  until  after  a 
time  of  needed  rest.  Alice  yielded  to  her  mother's 
suggestion  to  retire  to  bed  early,  and  when  she  had 
undressed  herself,  Mrs.  Ludwell  said  : 

"  Now  I  will  leave  you,  darling,  although  there  are 


ALICE  JOURNEYS  TO   BROAD    RIVER.  209 

many  things  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about.     Go  to  bed 
now  and  sleep  well  in  your  old  own  bed-chamber." 

"It  is  so  sweet  to  be  here,  mother,"  she  said,  look- 
ing around.  Tears  came  into  her  eyes,  and  instantly 
were  answered  by  some  in  her  mother's. 

"  I  don't  feel  like  going  to  bed  quite  yet,  mother, 
unless  you  insist.  I'm  not  at  all  fatigued,  and  I  am 
loath  to  let  sleep  come  and  shut  my  eyes  so  soon  from 
you  and  the  things  in  this  room.  Yet.  I'd  better,  on 
your  account  and  on  father's.  If  we  should  get  to  talk- 
ing MTe  won't  know  when  to  s+,op,  and  father  will  be 
kept  awake." 

"  No,  dear.  If  you  don't  feel  fatigued  nor  sleepy 
we  can  have  a  little  talk.  Your  father  won't  mind  it. 
Indeed,  he  doesn't  expect  me  quite  yet,  knowing  we 
might  have  something  special  to  say  to  each  other. 
Only  he  cautioned  me  not  to  keep  you  up  late,  and  to 
let  you  lie  in  bed  as  late  as  you  pleased  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  That  was  good  of  him  and  just  like  him." 

They  chatted  until  late.  The  mother  was  led  soon 
to  regret  that  their  conversation  had  not  been  post- 
poned. Now  the  door  of  the  heart  of  her  daughter 
once  opened,  all  therein  must  come  out  in  that  dear 
presence.  That  heart,  parted  from  none  of  the  loyalty 
of  its  new  allegiance,  yet  could  not  but  confess — for  it 
seemed  and  felt  like  a  confession — some  of  the  things 
that  had  brought  so  much  anguish  and  shame.  With 
bitter  grief  she  spoke  of  the  neglect  of  Caroline  Staple- 
ton,  a  neglect  which,  if  her  own  husband  had  not  con 
nived  at  it,  he  could  have  mitigated,  or  at  least  com- 
pensated by  affectionate  behavior  on  his  own  part, 
14 


210  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

neither  of  wliicli  things,  as  was  well  known  to  every- 
body, he  had  ever  done.  When  she  came  to  speak  of 
Miss  Jewell,  her  face  reddened  and  her  voice  was  low 
and  tense,  tending  to  frighten  her  mother  with  the  sus- 
picion that  herein  she  had  received  a  wound  that  was 
incurable.  Several  times  she  besought  her  to  stop,  but 
she  would  not. 

"No,  mother,  not  yet,  not  quite  yet,  I  can  net 
sleep  until  I  have  told  you  all.  After  that  I  am  sure 
that  I  can.  I  must  let  all  come  out  to-night,  since  it 
has  begun  ;  then  I  shall  get  some  relief.  May  God  for- 
give me  if  I  have  said,  or  if  I  shall  say,  anything  incon- 
sistent with  the  vows  I  have  taken  upon  myself,  to  be 
followed  by  temptations  so  much  more  trying  than  I 
could  ever  have  been  made  to  expect !  It  is  to  you  I 
am  talking,  and  it  seems  to  me  now,  as  it  always  seemed, 
that  when  I  am  talking  with  you  it  is  as  though  I  am 
talking  with  my  own  heart,  and  with  God's  full  per- 
mission. Now  listen  to  me  further  about  this  young 
woman ;  for  you  haven't  yet  seen  the  peculiar,  the 
deepest  psttn  upon  my  heart  when  thinking  about  her. 
O  mother !  what  terrifies  me  most  is  the  thought,  the 
constantly  increasing  thought,  that  she  is  innocent.  I 
believed,  because  I  was  made  to  believe,  that  she  was 
not.  I  do  not  mean  that  I  was  led  to  suspect  her  guilty 
in  any  very  wicked,  impure  sense,  at  least  so  known  to 
herself,  and  intended  by  herself ;  but  that  she  had  for 
Duncan  a  feeling  of  attachment  to  which,  instead  of 
resisting,  she  yielded  with  too  little  thought  of  inevita- 
ble consequences  ;  and  that  Duncan,  having  suddenly 
discovered  the  degree  of  her  weakness  withdrew  from 
her  company  abruptly,  and  induced  me  to  treat  her 


ALICE  JOURNEYS  TO  BROAD  RIVER.  211 

with  only  such  civility  as,  without  rudeness,  must  he 
observed  whenever  we  met  in  the  company  of  others. 
But  do  you  know,  mother,  that  sometimes,  when  I've 
been  looking  toward  her,  I  have  said  to  myself,  if  that 
face,  beautiful  as  it  is,  be  not  innocent,  it  has  been 
gifted  with  preternatural  power  to  counterfeit.  She 
has  looked  at  me  sometimes— indeed,  she  did  so  as  late 
as  yesterday  afternoon,  when  I  happened  to  meet  her 
with  Charlotte  Macfarlane  in  one  of  the  stores — as  if 
she  would  like  to  draw  near  to  me  for  the  purpose  of 
undeceiving,  and  that  she  is  hindered  mainly  by  pity, 
pity  for  the  delusion  under  which  I  am,  and  for  the 
worse  grief  I  should  have  if  she  were  to  remove  it.  I 
declare  the  thought  of  that  sometimes  so  frightens  me 
that  I  feel  as  if  I  must  die ! " 

Her  mother,  in  much  anxiety,  watched  as  she  rose 
and  walked  silently  but  rapidly  in  the  room,  feeling 
that  she  must  say  something,  and  not  knowing  what. 

"  Come,  come,  my  child,"  she  affectionately  remon- 
strated, "  I  can  not  believe  that  things  are  as  bad  as  vou 
fear."  - 

She  stopped  abruptly,  moved  slowly  to  her  mother, 
and,  getting  upon  her  knees  and  taking  both  her  hands, 
said  : 

"  Mother,  I  could,  or  I  think  I  could,  have  borne 
what  many  women  far  better  than  I  am  have  had  to 
bear  in  their  husbands,  especially  when  sorely  tempted, 
as  in  this  case — for  she  is  faultless  in  face  and  in  shape 
— but  mother,  mother!  suppose  it  should  be,  and  be 
made  appear  that — that  the  man  whose  wife  I  am,  in 
his  infatuation  for  this  fair  creature,  so  deported  himself 
toward  her  as  to  frighten  her  away  or  as  to  incense  her, 


212  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

as  all  good  women  must  be  incensed  by  a  man's  audaci- 
ty, and  that  therefore  it  is  she,  instead  of  me,  that  has 
been  most  outraged ;  and  yet  she  can  afford  to  look  down 
with  compassion  upon  me,  and  decline,  for  my  sake,  to 
put  aside  a  veil  that  would  show  him  to  whom  I  am  so 
bound  to  be  not  only  a  treacherous  husband,  but  an  as- 
sailer  and  a  slanderer  of  unprotected  innocence  !  If 
that  is  proved,  O  mother !  how  am  I  to  continue  to  live 
with  a  man  who — to  put  my  own  poor  self  aside  from 
such  consideration— sought  to  blast  the  name  of  a  good 
woman  whom  he  endeavored,  but  failed  to  destroy  \  " 

She  buried  her  face  in  the  lap  of  her  mother,  -who 
let  her  weep  for  several  moments.  Then,  raising  her 
and  taking  her  within  her  arms,  she  said  : 

"  My  daughter,  I  am  very  sorry  that  I  let  you  speak 
of  your  troubles  this  first  night.  They  are  more  serious 
than  I  had  apprehended.  But  you  must  not  say  an- 
other word  about  them  now."  Then,  looking  around 
the  room,  she  asked  : 

"  Is  everything  arranged  as  you  wished  ?  That  was 
your  crib  :'  I  know  you  haven't  forgotten  it." 

"  That  I  have  not !  "  she  answered,  smiling.  "  Yes  ; 
all  is  just  as  I  would  have  it.  I  keep  the  baby  close  by 
me  while  she  is  so  young.  I  feel  better  now,  and  I'm 
going  to  get  a  good  night's  sleep.     I'm  sure  I  am." 

The  outpouring  did  no  harm,  rather  good.  The 
feeling  of  home  and  its  abounding  sufficiency  in  love 
and  protection,  outside  sounds  and  fragrances,  soon 
brought  on  sleep.  She  did  not  awaken  when  the  nurse, 
twice  in  the  course  of  the  night,  entered  the  chamber. 
The  sun  was  high  up  next  morning  when,  opening  her 
eyes  and  contemplating  curiously  for  a  moment  the 


ALICE  JOURNEYS  TO   BROAD  RIVER.  213 

tilings  around  her,  so  long  unwonted,  she  rose  quickly, 
called  to  the  nurse,  and  began  to  dress  herself. 

"  Why,  Liza,  I'm  ashamed  of  myself  !  What  did 
you  let  me  sleep  so  for  ?  How  is  the  baby  ?  Did  she 
wake  in  the  night  \ " 

"  Yes'm,  Miss  Alice  ;  twice't.  I  wa'n'  guine  wake 
you  when  no  use,  en  I  knowed  you  want  de  sleep,  en 
your  ma,  en  your  pa,  bofe  un  'em  say  it  not  got  to  be 
done.  De  baby  well  as  she  ken  be,  'pear  like  de  trav- 
'lin'  en  de  a'r  up  here  already  'gins  to  'gree  wid  her,  de 
way  she  hold  on  to  me  when  I  takes  her." 

At  that  moment,  after  a  knock  at  the  door,  a  wait- 
ress entered  with  a  tray,  bearing  a  goblet  overflowing 
with  golden  and  green. 

"  Mawnin',  Miss  Alice ;  hope  you  res'  well  larse  night. 
Marster  sent  you  dis  min'  julep,  en  he  say  you  got  to 
drink  it  every  drap,  because  he  say  you  needs  it.  He 
say  he  don'  want  no  foolin'  wid  it  jes  wid  de  spoon." 

"  Oh,  Tempe,  good  morning  !  Tell  father  I  say  that 
I  find  he's  the  same  good,  glorious  old  fellow  that  he's 
always  been.     Breakfast  is  over,  isn't  it  ? " 

"  No'm ;  marster  en  mistess  say  dee  ain'  goin'  to  have 
breakfast  tell  you  wake  up  en  come  down,  exceptin' 
mistess  she  made  marster  take  a  cup  o'  coffee." 

"  My,  my !  go  down  and  tell  mother  she  may  give 
orders  to  have  breakfast  brought  in.  I'll  be  down  by 
the  time  it  is  ready." 

The  meal  was  served  in  the  piazza  at  the  rear,  from 
which  they  could  look  upon  the  poultry  of  various  spe- 
cies in  the  yard  and  over  into  the  garden,  along  whose 
front  fence  were  fig  trees,  cape  jessamines,  rose  bushes, 
and  lao-estramiias. 


214  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  I  knew  you  two  girls  would  want  to  have  some 
special  talky-talky  to  yourselves,"  said  Mr.  Ludwell. 
"  Whom  did  you  gossip  about  mostly  ? " 

"  Not  you  for  one,  father,"  answered  Alice  cheerily. 
"  You  may  be  sure  that  you  escaped  unscathed." 

"  I  suppose  you  took  up  those  whom  you  regarded 
as  the  biggest  sinners  first;  my  time  will  come  on  a 
little  later.     Did  you  drink  the  julep  I  sent  you  \  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  it  was  delicious,  especially  for  being 
made  by  you." 

"  All  right ;  now  I  want  to  see  if  you  can't  eat 
something.  You're  rather  thinner  looking  than  I  like 
to  see,  daughter.  I  hope  Mr.  Guthrie  doesn't  allowance 
you  on  that  line." 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  answered,  imitating  his  tone.  "  He  is 
quite  fond  of  good  eating  himself,  and  he  wonders  some- 
times why  I  eat  what  he  calls  so  little.  But  I'm  in 
good  health  physically,  father,  and  I  mean  to  enjoy  fully 
you  and  mother,  and  everybody  and  everything  else, 
while  I'm  here." 

"  That's  right.  Nothing  like  a  good  appetite  for 
health,  supposing-  of  course,  a  reasonable  conscience.  I 
hope,  as  some  of  our  good  neighbors  about  here  say, 
that  you've  tried  to  keep  a  livin'  holt  on  the  lessons 
your  mother  has  taught  you." 

"  Good  lessons  have  been  taught  me  by  others  be- 
sides mother,"  she  answered,  with  a  look  of  affection, 
"  even  if  I  might  justly  count  her  as  at  the  head  of  my 
teachers.  I  can't  say  how  well  I've  profited  by  the  in- 
structions." 

"  Well,  well,  I'll  take  it  for  granted  that  you've  done 
as  well  as  could  be  expected.     But  fall  to,  fall  to — we 


ALICE  JOURNEYS  TO  BROAD  RIVER.  215 

mustn't  let  the  breakfast  get  cold,  what  allowance  your 
economical  mother  has  set  before  us.'1 

This  joke,  pleasant  as  habitual,  put  all  in  good  frame. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

MRS.    BUCK. 

In  that  region  were  fewer  marked  distinctions  than 
in  the  villages  between  the  educated  and  the  ignorant, 
the  wealthy  and  the  poor.  I  should  hardly  say  "  the 
poor,"  for  there  were  almost  none  who  could  not,  and 
who  usually  did  not,  make  sufficient  maintenance  for 
themselves  and  their  dependents  out  of  a  soil  so  fertile 
and  a  climate  so  salubrious.  To  a  frontier  region,  near 
the  line  of  dangerous  savage  existence,  few  are  accus- 
tomed to  migrate  who  have  not  courage,  vigor,  and 
activity  sufficient  for  their  own  essential  wants.  Here 
large  estates  and  small — the  former  few,  the  latter  nu- 
merous ;  the  former  not  too  large,  the  latter  not  too 
small — covered  the  country  from  the  Savannah  beyond 
the  Ocmulgee.  Remote  from  large  towns,  bordering 
upon  an  extensive  space  occupied  by  the  Indians,  it  be- 
hooved this  people  within  degrees  to  ignore  personal, 
and  even  family  distinctions,  in  view  of  the  needs 
and  perils  that  were  incident  to  all.  And  so  the  un- 
cultured poor  man  (thus  to  name  him  for  want  of  a 
more  accurate  appellative)  was  led  to  feel  a  freedom 
as  distinct  as  his  wealtlry  neighbor,  with  whom  his  in- 
tercourse often  was  more  frequent  and  confidential  than 


216  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

that  held  with  his  equal  in  property  and  intelligence 
who  lived  half  a  dozen  miles  away.  The  outcome  of 
such  relationships  was  benign  to  both  classes.  It  is  not 
every  man  of  wealth,  with  sincere  intentions  thereto, 
who  knows  how  to  deport  himself  to  his  neighbors  who 
are  of  the  humbler  sort.  There  is  a  condescension  that 
means  and  wishes  to  be  considered  charitableness  which 
to  the  eye  looks  well  enough  to  be  praised,  and  it  some- 
times makes  grateful  recipients  out  of  those  who  have 
been  used  to  nothing  different.  Yet  between  these  and 
the  givers  is  a  wall  which,  though  not  visible  to  the 
eye,  is  felt  by  both  to  be  impassable ;  and  this  feeling 
tends  to  suppress  emulation  and  hinder  development 
on  the  line  where  some  might  make  their  best  achieve- 
ments. On  the  other  hand,  where  there  is  no  wall  ex- 
cept that  made  by  the  natural  fitness  of  things,  along 
which  is  many  an  open  gate  for  going  in  and  coming 
out,  whatever  is  original  and  individual  has  opportu- 
nities for  all  possible  growth.  There  was  an  aristoc- 
racy in  rural  districts  as  in  villages,  an  aristocracy  of 
excellent  type,  with  definite  but  not  oppressive  peculiar- 
ities, effecting  good  results.  The  broad  line  between 
the  white  man  and  the  negro  had  the  effect  of  hinder- 
ing any  other.  The  aristocratic  element  did  not  keep 
itself  aloof  from  the  democratic,  but  associated  with  it, 
elevated  it,  and  sometimes  allied  itself  with  it.  In  its 
very  highest  representatives  it  was  least  ostentatious.  Its 
graciousness  was  not  misunderstood  by  the  humble,  and 
they  not  often  sought  to  overleap  barriers  to  entirely 
equal  intercourse  which,  not  convention,  but  nature  and 
different  fortune  and  opportunities  had  raised.  Ko 
man  could  feel  himself  to  be  more  of  a  freeman  than 


MRS.  BUCK.  217 

the  white  man  of  middle  Georgia  sixty  years  ago.  The 
products  of  this  freedom  have  been  seen  on  iields  of 
multifarious  endeavor.  Intermixture  of  classes  among 
the  whites  accounts  both  for  the  racy  humor  among 
inferiors  and  the  sturdy  character  that  was  behind  it. 
Few  sights  bring  laughs  heartier  or  more  kindly  than 
that  of  a  weak  man  who,  imagining  himself  the  equal 
of  a  strong  who  treats  him  as  an  equal,  essays  to  do  as 
he  does.  Such  laughs  are  free  from  the  petulance  that 
comes  from  contempt  when  in  the  innocent  mimic  are 
seen  qualities  more  easily  imitated,  and  they  are  those 
which  make  the  genuine  freeman  everywhere.  Inter- 
marriages, not  frequent,  with  few  exceptions,  lowered 
not  as  much  as  they  exalted.  They  produced  a  race 
having  for  forms  neither  more  nor  less  regard  than 
they  were  believed  to  be  entitled  to,  as  exponents  and 
conveyances  of  true  manhood  and  true  womanhood. 

On  a  plane  much  lower,  yet  not  far  dissimilar,  were 
the  relations  of  the  white  people  to  negroes.  Constant 
close  contiguity  to  their  owners  gave  rise  to  humanity 
and  fidelity.  In  no  portion  of  the  country  was  domestic 
and  community  police  upon  a  scale  of  less  vigilance  or 
greater  security  than  on  plantations 

"Father,"  said  Alice  after  breakfast,  "you  should 
have  heard  Susie  this  morning  commenting  upon  what 
seemed  to  her  carelessness  in  guarding  these  premises 
at  night,  and  Eliza's  answer.  Susie  said  to  me ;  '  Law, 
Miss  Alice !  Dee  don't  shet  nare  single  door  in  all  dis 
big  house  of  a  night,  let  'lone  winders.  I  speck  your  pa, 
he  so  rich,  he  don'  min'  what  people  can  steal.' " 

"  And  how  answered  Lizy  ?  I'll  be  bound  for  her  to 
undertake  to  clear  up  the  mystery." 


218  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  '  Gal,'  said  Lizy, '  you  astes  dat  question  'cause  you 
ain'  never  lived  nowhar  'cept  in  a  big  town,  whar  peo- 
ple has  to  lock  up  what  dee  got,  or  keep  dey  eye  on  it. 
But  up  here,  it's  diiier'nt.  Marster  know  his  niggers 
ain'  gwine  steal  from  him,  en  ef  anybody  else  niggers 
comes  prowlin'  around  here  of  a  night  our  dogs  would 
make  sich  a  racket  somebody  would  wake  up  en  chase 
'em  off  befo'  dee  could  lay  day  han'  on  anything  to 
steal  it  en  k'yar  it  off  out'n  dis  house,  en  den  may  be 
come  up  wid  'em  en  git  some  of  dey  hide.  Marster, 
warm  night  like  dis,  he  ain'  studdin'  'bout  rogues  ;  whut 
he  studdin'  'bout  is  keepin'  hisself  cool." 

"  Good  for  Lizy  !  That's  as  satisfactory  an  answer 
as  I  could  have  made,  and  in  more  expressive  language." 

About  two  hours  afterward,  while  her  father  was 
out  somewhere  on  the  plantation,  Alice  received  her 
first  visit.  It  was  from  an  elderly  lady  who  dwelt  a 
couple  of  miles  away  on  a  small  tract  adjoining  Mr. 
Indwell's.  She  came  riding  upon  a  mare  followed  by  a 
colt,  and  alighted  upon  a  block  in  the  grove  before  she 
was  observed.  Hearing  the  youngster  whinnying,  Alice 
looked  out,  and  ran  to  assist  the  visitor  to  the  house. 

"  Why,  howdye,  Mrs.  Buck  ? "  she  said,  putting  her- 
self within  her  embrace.  "  I  knew  you  wouldn't  be 
long  in  coming  to  see  me  after  you  heard  I  was  here. 
How  are  you,  and  all  the  rest  ? " 

"  Howdye,  Alice  ?  Monstrous  glad  to  see  you,  child. 
But  now,  stop  now  right  here. before  we  go  any  furder, 
and  let  me  give  some  directions  to  Abom — I  see  him 
a-comin'  yonder — about  that  mar',  and  special  about  that 
colt,  which  I  do  think  they're  the  biggest  fool  things — 
colts,  I  mean — in  this  whole  troublesome  world.  Abom," 


MRS.  BUCK.  219 

she  continued,  addressing  herself  to  a  negro  man  who 
had  come  up  to  take  the  mare,  "  when  you  put  her  up, 
you  better  lock  the  barn  door,  because  if  you  don't,  that 
animal  of  a  colt  he'll  muander  everywhere,  all  over  the 
lot,  and  what  he  can't  manage  to  jump  over,  he'll  jump 
intoo,  and  if  for  nothin'  else  but  for  jes  a-goin'  every whar 
whar  he  have  no  business  a-goin'.  'Tweren't  I  made  up 
my  mind  before  I  left  home  to  stay  to  dinner,  and  may 
be  toward  the  shank  of  the  evenin'  like,  I'd  a  not  let 
him  come.  You  understand  me,  Abom,  does  you  ?  It's 
to  fix  him  whar  he  can't  jump  nother  over  anything 
ner  intoo  it,  nor  meddle  with  it  no  ways." 

"  Oh,  yes'm,  Miss  Buck,"  he  answered  with  the  con- 
descending respect  usually  paid  by  negroes  to  humble 
white  friends  of  their  owners,  "  I'll  fix  him  so  he  k'yarn 
hurt  nothin',  nor  git  hurted  hisself." 

"  That's  right,  Abom.  How  you  been,  Alice  ?  Seem 
like  to  me  you're  some  thinner  than  when  I  see  you  last 
time  you  was  here,  although  you  ain't  altered  so  mon- 
strous powerful  much,  like  some  girls  does  when  they 
git  married  and  go  off  from  their  parrents,  and  when 
they  come  back  home  they  look  like  they  been  dragged 
through  a  bresh-heap  or  somethin'.  The  more  I  look 
at  you,  the  more  you  look  like  yourself.  How's  your 
ma  ?     Ah,  here  she  is,  to  speak  for  herself." 

Mrs.  Ludwell  met  her  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  and 
with  Alice  assisted  her  to  ascend. 

"  The  good  Lord  help  your  two  souls,  both  of  you  ! 
I  don't  need  all  that  to  git  in,  nor  none  of  it,  in  fact." 

Yet  pleased,  she  submitted  to  the  escort,  and  when 
she  was  seated  upon  a  large  rocker,  in  answer  to  the  in- 
vitation to  remove  her  bonnet,  she  took  off  the  vast 


220  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

straw  covering,  plucked  at  every  point  of  imaginary 
derangement  of  her  cap,  at  length  suffered  Alice  to  re- 
adjust it,  and  the  while  looked  at  her  mother  and  her 
alternately. 

"  I  do  believe  the  child  will  look  jes  like  you  when 
she  gits  your  age,  and  she's  a-beginnin'  to  look  it  now." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Buck,"  Alice  said. 

"  Well  you  may  thank  me,  child  ;  for  she  was  pretty 
as  a  pink,  and  she  hold  her  own,  to  my  opinion,  oncom- 
mon  well.  Warm,  ain't  it  ?  Yes,  as  you  all's  Ander 
was  drivin'  the  k'yart  by  my  house  on  the  way  to  mill, 
I  hailed  him  and  ast  how  all  was,  and  he  said  all  was 
well  as  common,  and  then  he  up,  he  did,  and  he  told 
me  that  his  Miss  Alice  come  last  night,  and  I  made  up 
my  mind  I  wanted  to  see  how  the  child  look,  and  hear 
her  tell  all  about  herself,  and  I  told  her  she  looked  thin, 
but  yit  she  grow  more  like  herself  as  I  keep  on  a-lookin' 
at  her.  The  good  Lord  know  I'm  proud  to  see  her 
once  more  and  a-lookin'  so  nice  and  well.  And  how  you 
like  livin'  in  town,  Alice,  or  do  you  think  you  got  usen- 
ed  to  it  yit  ?     Look  like  you  been  thar  long  enough." 

"Oh,  right  well,  Mrs.  Buck;  but  not  as  well  as 
home." 

"  Ah,  now,  thar  it  is !  Whut  made  you  quit  it,  then  ? 
Howbeever,  it's  never  worth  anybody's  while  to  ast  sich 
questions  as  that  of  young  wimmens.  They'll  all  quit 
their  home  when  the  time  conies  for  'em  to  think  they 
must  drap  thar  parrents  and  go  off  a-follerin'  a  man. 
Your  own  ma  done  the  same,  and  me  too,  and  my 
daughter  done  it,  and  them  that  don't  it's  mostly  be- 
cause the  man  didn't  come  for  'em,  or  if  he  did,  it 
wer'n't  the  right  one,  or  he  didn't  'pears  to  them  he 


MRS.  BUCK.  221 

were  the  right  one,  and  I  suppose  it's  the  natur'  of  peo- 
ple, and  I've  never  jit  decided  in  my  own  mind  which 
is  the  best,  and  I've  a  mighty  nigh  come  to  the  conclu- 
din'  that  it's  mostly  accordin'  to  people  theirself  and  the 
way  they  act,  married  or  single,  and  behave  theirselves 
and  not  be  too  easy  to  find,  fau't  or  to  be  found  fau't 
with." 

At  that  moment,  Susie,  the  baby  in  her  arms,  came 
out  to  say  something  to  Alice.  The  old  lady,  after  a 
prolonged  stare,  cried  : 

"  Why,  bless  my  souls  alive !  Why,  Alice  !  Why, 
Missis  Ludwell !  you  never  told  me  nor  sent  me  word 
that  Alice  had  a  baby !  Why,  I  thought  her  baby  died 
when  it  was  born,  and  I  never  heard  she  had  ary  'notli- 
er !  Why,  I  am  took  back  !  Fetch  it  here,  'oman,  and 
lay  it  right  here  in  my  lap,  and  let  me  see  who  o'  the 
family  it's  like.  My  !  That  is  news  !  I  wonder  nobody 
sent  me  no  words ;  because  common  as  babies  is,  some- 
how it's  a  ruther  interestin'  thing  to  me  when  another 
of  'em  comes,  and  special  when  a  body  knows  their 
mother,  ef  not  their  father.  I  suppose  the  good  Lord 
made  people  so,  special  them  of  the  women  tribe. 
Fetch  it  along  here." 

Alice,  blushing  somewhat,  told  the  child's  brief  his- 
tory, and  added :  "  But  I  love  it  very  much,  Mrs. 
Buck — it  seems  to  me  nearly  as  much  as  if  it  were  my 
own." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Buck  when  the  child  was  laid  in 
her  lap,  "a  sweeter-lookin'  ner  a  good-lookiner  baby  I 
don't  know  the  time  !  But  Alice  is  mistakened,  ain't  she, 
Missis  Ludwell,  when  she  talk  about  a-lovin'  it  the  same 
ef  it  were  hern  ?     No,  child,  sich  as  that  ain't  'cordin'  to 


222  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

natur',  and  it's  right  it  ain't.  Well,  well,  it  look  like  a 
pity  for  sich  a  leetle  teeny  bit  of  a  thing  to  have  to 
have  its  mother  took  away  from  it.  But  the  good  Lord 
allays  knows  what's  best  for  them  that's  took,  and  them 
that's  left  behind.  You  may  take  it  now,  'oman — I'm 
thankful  it  fell  into  hands  that'll  try  to  do  a  mother's 
part  by  it.  You  didn't  tell  me  if  it  was  a  boy  or  if  it 
was  a  girl,  for  that  make  a  great  diffunce,  special'  in 
motherless  children.  I  wonder  at  myself  I  never  ast 
that  question  sooner.  People  gen'ly  does,  me  among 
'em.  Girl,  eh  ?  Well  mayby  that's  all  for  the  best,  too. 
Girls,  I've  often  notussed,  is  a  more  comfort  to  their 
parrents  and  them  that  has  the  keer  of  'em  than  boys, 
and  when  they  git  married,  they  most  always  is,  special' 
to  their  mothers ;  for  somehow  I  don't  know  how  it  is, 
but  it's  so,  that  a  mother  can  git  along  with  a  son-in- 
law  when  they  mayn't  not  so  easy  with  a  daughter-in- 
law,  which  my  expeunce  is,  that's  a  often  a  case  that 
a  body  might  call  tech-and-go.  Howbeever,  if  when  a 
mother  that  have  her  son's  wife  close  by,  if  she'll  try  to 
be  prudent,  and  not  be  too  jealous  in  her  mind,  or  try 
not  show  it  if  she  can't  he'p  it,  why,  in  them  case  they 
can  all  manage  so  as  to  keep  some  sort  o'  peace  from 
risin'  in  families,  as  the  savin'  is.  Yes,  you  may  take  it 
now,  my  'oman,  and  God  A'mighty  bless  the  po'  inno- 
cent thing  !  I  got  to  take  up  my  knittin' ;  I  brung  that 
along,  as  I  made  up  my  mind  I'd  spend  the  day,  if  it 
was  convenant,  and  I  want  you  all  to  tell  me  if  it 
ain't." 

"Of  course  it  is,  my  dear  Mrs.  Buck,"  answered 
the  hostess,  "  it  is  always  so.  Mr.  Ludwell  would  be 
much  disappointed  when  he  returns  if  he  found  that 


MIIS.  BUCK.  22S 

you  had  been  here  and  not  stayed  to  dinner,  and  so 
would  Alice  and  I." 

"  All  right,  then,"  she  said,  taking  from  her  pocket 
a  large  ball  of  yarn  and  an  unfinished  stocking,  "  now  I 
feel  satisfied  in  my  mind.  I  didn't  know  but  what  Alice 
bein'  jest  come,  you  and  her  pa  inout  want  to  have 
her  all  to  yourself  for  a  day  or  so.  I  thought  once't, 
yes,  twice't,  I  thought  I'd  wait  tell  to-morrow ;  but,  tell 
the  truth,  I  were  that  anxious  to  see  the  child,  and  git 
the  news  she  had  before  it  got  cold  and  her  a  tired  o' 
tellin'  of  it,  that  I  jes  couldn't  stay  away.  So  I  made 
'em  put  the  side-saddle  on  Iihody,  and  I  got  my  ridin'- 
skeert,  and  I  come  along,  colt  and  all,  and  I  do  think 
if  they  can't  run  up  and  down,  up  and  down,  and  git 
over  more  ground  to  no  onuseless  purpose.  But  I  give 
directions  to  Abom  to  put  'em  whar  he  couldn't  romp 
over  inter  every  place  whar  he  had  no  business  a-goin', 
nor  break  his  naik  ner  skin  his  laigs  ner  cripple  Ms- 
self  a-tryin'.  Horses  is  convenant  things  to  have,  but 
it's  troublesome  and  resky,  jes  like  childern,  to  raise  'em 
from  colts." 

Having  disposed  herself  comfortably  for  her  work 
and  for  listening,  she  asked  Alice  to  begin  and  tell  her, 
if  not  all  she  knew,  such  portions  as  would  not  tire  her 
too  much. 

"  I  hain't  never  see  your  town,  ner  I  never  expect 
to  ;  but  they  tell  me  it's  laid  oif  reg'lar,  same  as  g'yar- 
den  beds,  and  everybody  thar  have  to  shinny  on  his 
own  side,  as  the  sayin'  is.  Don't  it  'pears  like  to  yon 
that  things  down  thar  is  crowded  and  jammed  in  agin 
one  'nother  ruther  much  for  comfort,  so  to  speak, 
raised,  as  you  been,  whar  thar's  plenty  of  a'r  for  every- 


224  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

body — man  and  beast  ?  I  do  jes  wonder  what  that  colt 
o'  Rhody's  would  think  if  he  was  turned  a  loose  down 
thar  one  time.  I  wouldn't  be  'tall  surprised  ef  it 
wouldn't  jes  fling  him  into  fits,  if  the  things  could  have 
'em." 

She  laughed  heartily  at  this  pleasant  conceit. 

Alice,  with  as  much  accuracy  as  possible,  answered 
her  many  questions  about  Clarke,  its  crowded  thorough- 
fares, its  five  stores,  its  three  churches,  its  two  schools, 
its  three  physicians,  its  four  lawyers,  its  court-house, 
its  jail,  its  two  blacksmith  shops,  its  two  shoemaker 
shops,  its  carpenter  shop,  its  wheel  and  wagon  shop,  its 
tan-yard.  The  main  difficulty  was  how  to  make  the 
listener  comprehend  how  it  was  that  so  many  people, 
none  or  but  a  few  of  them  of  kin,  could  live  and  keep 
peace  from  rising  all  huddled  together  in  that  way, 
everybody  seeing  into  everybody's  business,  hearing 
everything  they  said,  jostling  one  another  everywhere 
up  and  down,  by  and  large,  not  able  to  eat,  have  a  little 
chatting  in  desired  tones,  or  even  doing  a  necessary  bit 
of  domestic  scoldings  which,  in  her  opinion,  was  just  as 
important  as  bread  and  meat,  without  people's  hearing 
and  going  off  laughing  and  talking  about  it,  and  may  be 
some  of  them  having  no  more  manners  than  to  be  doing 
such  as  that  right  before  a  body's  face,  all  of  which,  be- 
sides others  that  might  be,  and  that  were  mentioned  by 
her,  had  made  her  decide  in  her  mind  that  some  people 
might  get  their  consent  to  live  in  that  way,  but,  as  for 
herself,  nobody  might  ever  expect  such  a  thing  of 
Charity  Buck,  because,  to  go  no  further,  she  did  not 
believe  all  such  as  that  to  be  healthy.  Yet  she  was 
thankful  to  be  relieved  of  some  of  the  most  painfully 


MRS.  BUCK.  225 

compassionate  of  the  cogitations  that  her  mind  had 
been  used  to  indulge  regarding  so  abnormal  an  exist- 
ence. Her  mind  reverting  to  the  child  that  had  just 
been  lying  upon  her  lap,  she  said  : 

"  And  you  hain't  never  had  a  child  o'  your  own, 
Alice — that  is  leastways  nare  livin'  child.  Well,  in  the 
times  I  ain't  been  at  work — which  is  mons'ous  sildom — 
and  sometimes  even  when  I  has,  my  mind,  a  all  onbe- 
knowin'  to  myself,  it  have  run  on  childern,  and  on  them 
that  has  a  many  one  of  'em  and  them  that  has  less  and 
some  few  that  although  if  so  be  they're  married  ever  so 
long  they  has  none,  not  nare  one ;  for  I'm  not  talkin' 
about  them  that  the  law  and  the  good  book  don't  allow 
sich  a  thing  ef  they  can  hender — which  sometimes  they 
can't — but  which  that's  neither  here  nor  thar,  only  I  kin 
but  be  always  sorry  in  my  mind  when  I  hear  uv  sich  a 
acs'dent;  but  what  I  am  talkin'  about,  if  I  can  make 
myself  plain,  is  that  it  seem  like  and  it  'pear  like  to 
me  that  them  the  good  Lord  do  send,  he  send  'em  ac- 
cordin'  to  his  notion,  and  not  people's — not  even  them 
that  has  'em,  be  they  rich  or  be  they  po\  And  it's  the 
same  with  niggers  and  other  kind  o'  prop'ty,  and  that 
I've  notussed  in  my  time  they  sildom  and  not  always 
goes  together,  childern  and  niggers,  but  a  most  always 
sip' rate,  them  with  the  rnoest  childern  havin'  the  fewest 
niggers,  and  them  with  a  houseful  o'  childern  some- 
times havin'  nare  nigger  to  their  name.  And,  to  my 
opinion,  it's  accordin'  to  the  lots  of  people,  and  they  got 
no  right  to  complain,  as  some  does.  Now  here's  Alice, 
and  thar's  my  Sallann,  that  you  both  got  married  in  a 
munt  o'  one  'nother,  which  your  ma  give  her  and  had 
made  for  her  every  stitch  o'  weddin'  close,  same  as  she 
15 


226  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

done  for  you,  that  she's  already  got  two  childern,  and 
you  nare  one — that  is,  of  your  own,  Yit  nare  one  of  you 
got  rights  to  find  fau't,  which  'twern't  for  my  warnin', 
Sallann  mout  of  done  it,  they  crowdin'  in  on  her  so 
rapid.  For  I  told  Sallann,  and  she  knowed  it  without 
my  tellin'  of  her,  that  I  got  married  when  I  were  fifteen 
year  old,  and  I  had  fourteen  childern  right  straight 
along  until  my  husband  died,  and  of  course  after  that  I 
quit ;  but  if  are  one  o'  em  ever  wanted  somethin'  to  eat 
and  couldn't  git  it,  I  never  'membered  the  times.  I 
know  you  ain't  forgot  Sallann  Buck,  though  they  moved 
clear  'cross  the  Oconee  River." 

"  Of  course,  we  couldn't  forget  her,  Mrs.  Buck. 
She  was  of  the  same  age  as  our  little  Ellen,  you  know," 
Mrs.  Ludwell  said. 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  and  how  well  I  'members  that  child  ! 
that  both  them  childern  was  took  with  the  measles 
when  they  was  ten  year  old  apiece,  and  they  was  o' 
them  kind  all  a  body  and  the  doctor  could  do,  the 
things  wouldn't  come  out.  And  Mr.  Ludwell,  he  rid 
over  to  my  house  every  single  day,  and  he  never  told 
me,  but  the  doctor  told  me  Mr.  Ludwell  told  him  not  to 
spar  pains  with  Sallann,  no  more  than  he  spar'd  'em 
Math  his  child,  and  he'd  see  all  about  it,  and  shore 
enough,  Sallann  she  scuffled  through,  but  poor  little 
Ellen,  she  had  to  go,  and  it  look  like  a  pity,  because 
you  didn't  have  but  four  children,  and  me — but  you 
knowed  it  was  the  good  Lord,  and  you  didn't  find  fau't 
with  him." 

Tears  came  in  all  eyes.  After  drying  hers,  Mrs. 
Buck  said  : 

"  But,  Alice,  you  hain't  told  me  about  the  old  lady 


MRS.  BUCK.  227 

Guthrie.  I  reckon  she'd  put  on  her  dignified  if  she 
was  to  hear  I  called  her  old,  though  they  ain't  live 
year  diffunce  in  me  and  her  age.  She  was  always 
active,  I  tell  you,  and  she  wer'n't  afeard  o'  nobody, 
male  nor  female,  people  nor  Injun.  She  never  mar- 
ried tell  she  were  a  old  girl,  but,  of  course,  that  were 
because  her  time  hadn't  come.  But  she  was  active ;  I 
tell  you  she  was  active,  and  everybody  said  she  married 
suitable  and  well.  Her  son  that  got  you  was  a  beauti- 
ful young  man,  the  onlest  time  I  ever  see  him,  the  night 
you  and  him  was  married.  But  tell  me,  how  is  all  her 
healths  ?  I  hope,  if  she  ain't  as  active  as  she  wus  yit 
she's  reason'ble  peert.  Our  people  all  knowed  her 
younger  sister  some  the  best.  She  never  hilt  her  head 
away  up  high  like  Hester." 

She  enjoyed  well  her  visit,  and  so  did  all,  including 
Mr.  Ludwell,  with  whom  at  dinner  she  had  many  a 
merry  jest.  She  knew  herself  to  be  an  ever-welcome 
guest  at  that  long  table  where  a  hospitality  was  dis- 
pensed that  never  led  to  abuse,  and  was  good  for  both 
the  receiver  and  the  giver.  When  it  was  time  to  go, 
she  got  a  promise  from  Alice  of  a  visit  as  soon  as  she 
had  rested  well,  and  she  acknowledged  to  a  feeling  of 
pride  when  assured  by  Abram  that  the  colt  had  behaved 
as  well  as  could  be  expected  in  one  of  his  age. 


228  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

CHAPTEK  XXIV. 

MR.    LUDWELL   INTERPOSES. 

The  visit  of  Mrs.  Buck  Alice  felt  to   have  done 
her  some  good  service.     The  witness  of  contentment 
in  a  condition  that  had  been  so  limited  always,  of  a 
trust  in  Divine  Providence  that  made  sorrow  more  en- 
durable and  cheerfulness,  even    humor,  more  cordial, 
living  near  by  and  to  a  degree  intimate  with  abundant 
prosperity  with  never  a  sigh  of  envy  or  painful  sense 
of  inferiority,  these,  she  felt,  ought  to  subdue  some  of 
the  bitterness  and  the  apprehension  that  were  upon  her 
own  heart.     No  allusion  was  made  during  all  that  day 
to  her  own  peculiar  case;  but  on  the  next  morning 
when  her  father  had  again  ridden  out,  her  mother  said : 
"Alice,  I've  been  thinking  much  about  what  you 
told  me  the  night  you  came.     I  haven't  said  anything 
to  your  father ;  you  must  talk  with  him  yourself  after 
a  while,  if  you  don't  feel  better.     He  will  know  what 
to  say  and  how  to  advise.     I  do  not.     What  you've 
been  going  through  has  been  so  far  away  from  my  own 
experience  that  really  I  am  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to 
say,  except  one  thing.     You  spoke  of  not  being  able  to 
endure  this  affliction  if  certain  things  about  Mr.  Guthrie 
and  Miss  Jewell  were  as  you  fear.     Why,   my  dear 
child,  you  ought  to  try  to  nerve  yourself  to  bear  any- 
thing that  may  come  that  can  not  be  avoided.     Mr. 
Guthrie  is  a  young  man  used  to  gay  society,  and  may 
have  been  tempted  in  a  way  that  some  men,  right  in 
other  respects,  are  weak  enough  to  yield  to,  although  in 
their  hearts  they  feel  themselves  to  be  and  are  true  to 


MR.  LUDWELL  INTERPOSES.  229 

all  other  obligations.  I  think  I  know  of  a  case  or  two 
where  women  have  tried  to  ignore  that  weakness  in 
their  husbands  and  thus  have  seemed  to  be  losing  com- 
paratively little  of  married  happiness.  They  endure 
because  they  have  to  endure  or  undergo  the  disgrace  of 
a  divorce,  which  you  know  nobody,  husband  or  wife,  has 
ever  sued  for  in  this  whole  region,  and  a  man  and  his 
wife  living  separate  doesn't  look  very  much  different." 

"  I  feel  better,  mother,  since  I've  been  here — that  is, 
I'm  not  so  prostrate  in  heart  since  I've  disclosed  every- 
thing to  you,  and  I  mean  to  try  to  follow  the  counsel 
that  you  and  father  give.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to 
endure  any  degree  of  faithlessness  to  myself ;  but  if 
that  other  be  true — that  an  innocent  woman  has  been 
maligned — the  question  will  be,  how  can  an  honorable 
woman  endure  to  live  with  a  man  without  honor  and 
without  pity,  and  take  the  risk — " 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  as  if  she  would 
hide  even  from  her  mother  the  blushes  that  burned  like 
fire. 

"  You,  dear  mother,"  she  resumed,  turning  again, 
"  can  not  put  yourself  in  my  case,  having  such  a  hus- 
band as  father." 

"  No,  perhaps  not  ;  still,  my  child,  our  Lord  never 
subjects  those  who  trust  in  him  to  burdens  that — but 
oh,  I  know  not  what  to  say.     Talk  to  your  father." 

"  No,  mother,  I  want  you  to  do  that  for  me.  I  can 
not.  I  can  not  look  up  into  that  clear,  good,  manful 
face,  and  make  an  admission  so  full  of  deadly  shame. 
You  do  it  for  me,  mother,  and  then  tell  me  what  he 
says.  I  will  follow  his  advice  if  it  is  to  lead  me  to 
death  or  madness." 


230  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  Well,  well ;  I'll  do  so  to-night." 

After  supper,  Alice  said  :  "  I  think  I'll  go  to  bed 
early  to-night,  feeling  a  little  fatigued." 

"  Now,"  said  her  father,  "  that's  what  I  call  sensible, 
and  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  You  and  your  mother 
kept  yourselves  up  too  long  the  first  night  you  reached 
here,  and  perhaps  you  got  rather  tired  of  poor  old  Mrs. 
Buck's  long  visit,  though  I  would  hope  not,  as  it  did  her 
a  deal  of  good  to  come  to  see  you." 

"  By  no  means,  father ;  I  was  very  glad  that  she 
came  and  spent  the  whole  day  with  us.  I  like  her  very 
much,  and  she  knows  it  I  am  sure.  I  am  only  a  little 
jaded  from  going  about  so  much  lately  and  going 
through  scenes,  some  unhappy  and  others  rather  trying. 
I'll  be  all  right  to-morrow." 

"  I  hope  so  ;  indeed,  I  know  so,  as  soon  as  you  get 
needed  rest.  The  baby  is  all  right,  and  looks  as  if  she 
felt  as  much  at  home  as  anybody." 

She  retired  early  as  she  said.  After  she  had  gone, 
her  father,  drawing  his  chair  close  to  his  wife,  said  : 

"  Ellen,  something  is  the  matter  with  Alice,  I  feel 
sure.  She  may  have  told  you  what  it  is,  but  she  has 
not  me.  Now,  if  it  is  anything  that  she  prefers  I 
shouldn't  know,  of  course  I  won't  ask  to  be  told.  I  am 
afraid,  what  I  have  suspected  all  along,  that  Guthrie  is 
not  acting  toward  her  as  he  ought.  A  man  that  is  capa- 
ble of  maltreating  his  own  sister,  or  seeing  it  done,  if  he 
takes  a  notion,  is  apt  to  maltreat  his  wife ;  and  if  this 
is  so,  I  think  I  ought  to  know  it.  I  do  hope  in  my 
soul  it  isn't,  but  I  am  very  much  concerned.  The 
poor  child  tries  to  be  cheerful ;  it  is  positively  pitiful 
to  see  the  struggle  she  makes." 


MR.   LUDWELL   INTERPOSES.  231 

"  Now,  husband,  I've  been  intending  to  have  a  talk 
with  you  about  Alice,  and  I  do  hope  that  you'll  try  to 
keep  calm.  As  it  is,  I've  been  so  excited  by  what  she's 
told  me  of  her  troubles  that  I've  hardly  enjoyed  her 
visit  at  all,  and  if  you  get  excited  too — " 

"  Never  mind  about  that,  my  dear.  Let  me  have 
the  facts,  and  then  if  I  can't  take  care  of  any  excite- 
ment that  may  come,  the  excitement  will  have  to  take 
care  of  itself,  that's  all.     Give  me  the  facts." 

When  she  had  made  her  report,  which  had  much, 
but  not  too  much  of  detail,  her  husband,  in  an  apparently 
indifferent  tone,  answered : 

"  Yes ;  at  his  old  tricks,  I  see,  from  which  it  is 
always  hard  to  break  a  dog,  whether  he  has  four  legs  or 
only  two." 

Then  he  rose  and  walked  the  circuit  of  the  piazza 
several  times,  occasionally  pausing  near  the  edge  and 
contemplating  the  stars,  as  if  among  them  he  would 
search  for  a  solution  that  would  be  wise  and  prudent. 
After  some  time  he  stopped  before  his  wife,  and,  raising 
his  arm  on  high,  said  in  a  tone  that,  striving  to  be  not 
loud,  made  up  in  tremor  and  in  depth  : 

"  Ellen !  By  God  !  Do  you  think  Alice  is  asleep  ? 
No,  no  ;  I'd  better  not  wake  her.  What  I'd  say  would 
be  too  painful  for  her  to  hear.     Poor,  poor  child !  " 

Again  he  turned  and  took  a  brief  walk,  slower  than 
before,  and  afterward  said : 

"  May  be  she  would  rather  I  wouldn't  say  anything 
about  this  matter  to  her.  The  loyalty  of  her  true  heart 
might  be  too  sorely  wounded.  But  I'll  tell  you  what  I 
have  decided  upon.  You  say  she  has  permission  from 
her  gracious  lord  and  master  to  remain  here  three  or 


232  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

four  weeks.  My  prediction  is  that  it  will  be  longer 
than  that,  and  if  she  will  follow  my  advice,  as  I  expect 
to  offer  it  after  I've  looked  into  matters  somewhat,  she'll 
never  consent  for  him  to  put  his  eyes  upon  her  again  ; 
and  if  she  does  not,  and  he  comes  here,  I'll  run  him  off 
with  the  dogs.  I  haven't  a  doubt  that  her  suspicions 
are  well  founded.  If  they  are,  he  is  worse  than  an 
assassin  !  From  what  you  tell  me  about  Macfarlane's 
daughter  holding  to  the  young  woman,  I  feel  as  sure  of 
her  innocence  as  I  could  be  of  any  fact  of  whose  truth 
I  had  not  positive  assurance  from  personal  witness. 
As  soon  as  I  can  get  through  with  work  here,  that  for 
a  week  or  so  longer  will  need  my  special  supervision,  I 
am  going  down  to  Clarke,  and  I'll  find  out  the  whole 
truth.  Duncan  Guthrie  may  believe  that  he  can  fool 
that  unsuspicious  child,  but,  by  the  God  of  heaven,  he 
shall  not  deceive  me  !  If  he  had  only  done  what  some 
men  with  half-and-half  wives,  and  even  occasionally  one 
with  a  wife  a  great  deal  better  than  himself,  are  tempted 
to  do,  I  wouldn't  say  one  word,  except  to  advise  her  to 
go  on  back  to  him  and  submit  and  bear.  But,  if  he  has 
sought  to  ruin  a  friendless  woman,  and  then,  in  order  to 
shield  himself  from  odium  and  other  punishment  that 
such  outrage  deserves,  undertaken  to  blast  her  reputa- 
tion, I  say,  let  him  go  his  way  down  alone  !  You  may 
let  her  know  my  opinion.  I  shall  not  even  hint  the 
subject  to  her;  and  perhaps,  for  the  present  at  least, 
she'd  better  not  mention  it  to  me.  But  tell  her  this, 
my  dear,  that  she  owes  to  you  and  me,  and  she  owes 
more  to  herself,  to  try  to  cast  away  all  her  troubled 
thoughts,  and,  taking  care  of  herself,  wait  for  deliver- 
ance— and  expect  it,  by  the  living  God ! " 


SEABORN  TORRANCE.  233 

Taking  his  hat  and  his  cane,  lie  went  out  and  did 
not  return  until  the  night  was  half  spent. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

SEABOKN  TORRANCE. 

People  used  to  say  that  if  ever  a  man  had  been 
born  a  lawyer,  it  was  Seaborn  Torrance.  All  during 
the  period  of  his  childhood,  in  the  issues  of  domestic 
and  school  life,  wherein  sweetmeats  and  playthings 
were  prizes  to  be  striven  for,  and  the  hickory  or  peach 
tree  switch  the  penalties  to  be  shunned,  he  had  an 
adroitness  both  in  attack  and  defense  which  with  par- 
ents and  schoolmasters  often  prevailed,  contrary  to  the 
evidence,  not  only  before  the  rendition  of  judgment, 
but  after  it. 

"  It  won't  ever  do,"  his  mother  used  to  say,  "  to  let 
Seaborn  go  to  talking  when  you've  made  up  your  mind 
that  he's  got  to  be  whipped  for  something  that  you 
know  he's  either  done  or  neglected  ;  for  if  you  do, 
he'll  either  convince  you  or  he'll  manage  to  persuade 
you  that  you  are  mistaken  in  your  very  own  eyes  or 
ears,  or  he'll  make  you  feel  ashamed  of  yourself  for 
making  such  a  great  ado  about  such  a  little  thing ;  or 
he'll  actually  quote  you  against  yourself,  so  to  speak,  by 
reminding  you  that  you  let  somebody  else  off  from 
punishment  for  the  same  thing,  or  something  that's  no 
worse  than  that.  And  then  positively  when  you've  had 
to  shut  your  eyes  in  order  to  give  him  what  you  know 


234  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

lie  deserves,  after  you  are  through  with  him,  he'll  look 
at  you  so  that  you  feel  sorry  you've  done  it,  and  in 
such  way  he'll  get  off  many  and  many  a  time  afterward. 
I  do  think,  on  my  soul,  that's  he's  got  the  pleadingest 
mouth  I  ever  heard  in  all  my  days." 

With  a  fair  common  education,  such  as  he  could  ob- 
tain at  a  neighborhood  old-field  school,  at  seventeen  he 
went  to  work  on  his  widowed  mother's  small  farm,  and 
having  purchased,  with  the  first  cotton  money  he  had 
made,  a  copy  of  Blackstone's  Commentaries,  he  read  it 
in  the  times  of  leisure,  which  seldom  came  except  of 
nights  and  Sundays.  By  the  time  he  was  one  and 
twenty,  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  his  native  county. 
The  successes  gained  in  trials  before  the  courts  of  jus- 
tices of  the  peace  and  in  petty  trials  in  the  inferior 
court  of  the  county,  which  at  that  time  had  jurisdiction 
co-ordinate  with  the  superior  court  except  as  to  appeals, 
equity,  land  titles,  and  criminal  trials,  were  not  long  in 
attracting  attention.  The  fluency  of  his  speech,  his 
vigilance  during  the  progress  of  a  case,  his  aj)titude  in 
the  direct  and  cross  questioning  of  witnesses,  his  adroit- 
ness in  getting  continuances  of  weak  or  insufficiently 
prepared  issues,  the  quickness  with  which  he  seized 
upon  a  point  made  favorable  to  his  client  by  a  word  or 
omission  of  a  witness  or  an  admission  of  his  adversary, 
the  promptness  and  vigor  with  which  he  assailed  a 
weak  point  in  the  latter,  his  imperturbability  while 
standing  before  the  judge  and  the  old  great  lawyers, 
seeming  not  even  to  notice  their  smiles  at  any  crude- 
ness  in  his  conduct  of  a  case,  a  natural  eloquence  that 
knew  how  to  be  nervous  or  persuasive  or  pathetic, 
these  soon  brought  him  into  good  practice.     By  the 


SEABORN  TORRANCE.  235 

time  lie  was  forty,  nobody  would  say  that  in  the  North- 
ern circuit,  or  in  any  one  of  the  three  adjacent,  they 
knew  his  superior,  especially  in  defense  of  suits  involv- 
ing complicated  accounts  and  inaccurate,  conflicting 
testimony.  He  was  now  forty-live,  in  full  practice  that 
for  some  years  past  had  been  occupied  mainly  in  suits 
where  important  moneys  were  involved.  These  took 
him  often  out  of  his  circuit.  It  had  got  to  be  said  that 
it  must  be  a  desperate  case  indeed  wherein,  if  Seaborn 
Torrance  could  not  gain  or  save  the  condemnation 
money  to  his  client,  he  could  not  at  least  put  off  its  pay- 
ment until  time  or  other  such  auxiliary  could  subdue 
the  triumph  of  the  adversary  and  mitigate  the  discom- 
fiture of  his  client. 

Among  the  profession  his  standing  as  a  man  of 
honor  had  never  been  impeached  seriously.  His  word 
of  promise  was  regarded  as  trustworthy  as  his  written 
obligation,  and  all  knew  his  courage  to  be  unquestion- 
able. "When  rallied  pleasantly,  or  perchance  with  some 
seriousness,  by  an  intimate  personal  friend,  or  one  whom 
he  recognized  as  an  entirely  honorable  opponent,  for 
what  seemed  too  severe  a  straining  of  the  law  or  the 
evidence,  he  replied  with  coolness  and  sincerity  that 
his  client,  like  any  other  man,  was  entitled  to  every 
benefit  and  advantage  that  the  law  had  provided,  as 
well  as  to  the  exertion  of  the  best  powers  of  his  counsel. 
He  often  said : 

"  People  that  complain  of  lawyers  wrho  avail  them- 
selves of  the  law's  opportunities  are  after  the  wrong 
quarry.  If  anything  deserves  reprobation  it  is  the  law 
itself,  which  they  made  and  provided,  and  with  which 
they  don't  find  fault  when  it  is  employed  in  their  own 


236  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

behalf.  It  is  a  very  easy  and  sometimes  a  very  conven- 
ient and  pleasant  thing  to  condemn  others  ;  but  intro- 
spection, close  introspection,  in  my  time  I  have  found 
not  often." 

Yet  he  would  have  driven  out  of  his  office  one 
who  would  even  have  intimated  a  wish  for  him  to  do  or 
attempt  anything  that  he  regarded  dishonorable,  and 
perhaps  with  a  kick  accelerated  his  exit,  and  he  would 
have  fought  any  man  who  would  have  insinuated  an 
aspersion  upon  his  professional  integrity.  There  were 
those — a  few — who  were  regarded  superior  to  him  in  le- 
gal learning.  He  knew  this,  yet  he  never  indulged  a 
thought  of  envy ;  for  in  the  conduct  of  complicated 
cases  through  all  their  intricacies  he  well  knew  himself 
to  be  without  a  peer. 

"  No,  Guthrie,"  he  said  after  Duncan  had  stated  the 
case  and  given  his  mother's  message,  "  I  doubt  if  it's  the 
thing  for  me  to  go  to  Clarke  right  away,  unless  you 
think  I  might  have  more  influence  than  yourself  with 
those  fellows  regarding  the  status  on  which  to  put  the 
case,  and  unless  we  ought  to  see  how  they  feel  about  a 
continuance  of  it  until  both  sides  can  manoeuvre  and 
find  out  what  chances  there  are  for  a  compromise,  pro- 
vided such  a  thing  is  thought  well  of  by  your  mother. 
A  continuance  is  important  for  her,  as  you  can  easily 
see,  being  in  the  defense.  Besides,  I  expect  I  know 
more  than  you  do  of  the  opinion  of  people  in  your 
county  about  the  way  your  father's  estate  has  been  man- 
aged. It  might  hurt  to  have  the  case  brought  on  while 
people  will  be  talking.  It's  better  to  wait  until  that 
slackens  or  gives  place  to  something  else  which  they'll 
think  it's  their  business,  instead  of  the  courts,  to  decide. 


SEABORN  TORRANCE.  237 

Meanwhile  we  will  be  getting  the  case  better  and  better 
in  hand.  We  may  want  to  get  Snttle's  testimony.  At 
all  events,  it  must  seem  so.  I  don't  doubt  that  they'll 
wish  to  have  it,  supposing  that  he'd  of  course  do  what 
he  could  to  bolster  up  his  own  action.  So  about  Butch- 
er. We  must  find  him  if  possible.  Some  time,  not  very 
far  off,  you  and  I  must  get  out  some  interrogatories 
for  him,  if  you  know,  or  can  find  out  if  he's  alive,  and 
where  he  lives.  If  not,  so  much  the  better  for  us,  at 
least  for  a  while.  I'm  rather  glad,  as  your  mother's 
counsel,  that  the  fellow  has  moved  away.  There  was  a 
good  deal  of  prejudice,  I  remember,  among  some  people 
against  Suttle.  It  may  be  no  particular  disadvantage 
to  us  that  he  has  not  become  so  known  to  fame  that 
his  domicile  can  be  easily  ascertained.  Yes,  yes,  that's 
all  so,  it  seems  to  me,  looking  at  the  case  at  this 
stage." 

"I'd  much  rather  you  would  go,  Mr.  Torrance," 
answered  Guthrie  earnestly.  "  Mother  would  be  better 
satisfied.  Then,  I  feel  so  outraged  with  these  men, 
Tolly  and  Bond,  Tolly  especially,  for  giving  me  not  a 
word  of  notice  of  intention  to  bring  this  suit,  and  for  the 
harsh  terms  which  needlessly  they  have  put  in  some  of 
the  allegations  of  their  bill,  that  I  do  not  feel  like  saying 
a  word  to  either  of  them,  especially  one  that  would 
sound  as  if  I  had  apprehension  or  would  desire  at  their 
hands  any  sort  of  indulgence." 

"  I  see,  I  see.  Then  I  will  go.  Perhaps  it  may  be 
as  well  any  how  to  have  an  early  conference  with  your 
mother.  Her  mind,  woman  as  she  is,  and  not  as  young 
as  she  used  to  be,  is  naturally  bothered,  and  may  be  a 
little  fretted,  and  a  good  solid  talk,  all  of  us  together, 


238  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

might  tend  to  relieve  it  somewhat.  Yes,  I'll  go  along 
with  you  to-morrow  morning." 

He  knew  all  the  time  that  he  was  going ;  but  he 
meant  for  his  doing  so  to  be  admitted  urgent,  and  there- 
fore insisted  upon.  Noticing  the  satisfaction  of  Guth- 
rie from  this  announcement,  he  continued  : 

"  Yes,  I've  no  doubt  that  your  mother  is  considera- 
bly harrassed.  Do  you  know,  my  young  friend,  that 
I  always  preferred  to  defend  such  cases  to  prosecut- 
ing them  ?  Of  course,  I  speak  without  reference  to 
their  particular  merits.  Somehow  I  always  feel  easier 
in  mind  and  stouter  when  I'm  on  the  defense.  Who 
was  that  old  English  fellow  ?  Walpole  ?  Yes,  it  was 
old  Walpole.  You  remember  what  he  said  about  dis- 
turbing things  that  are  quiet  %  Quieta  non  movere  is 
the  way  he  put  it.  Those  English  lawyers  are  always 
better  up  in  their  classics  than  we  are  over  here.  But 
it's  a  good  maxim.  It  always  went  rather  against  the 
grain  with  me  to  begin  the  stirring  up  of  litigation 
against  people,  especially  old  people,  and  more  espe- 
cially old  women  (begging  your  mother's  pardon),  years 
and  years  after  the  transactions  have  passed,  and  people 
have  been  seeming  to  acquiesce  in  their  results,  until 
most  of  those  who  knew  about  them  have  gone  away, 
either  to  the  grave  or  somewhere  else  where  it's  about 
as  hard  to  find  them.  I've  seen  so  much  distress  from 
such  things  that  I've  got  about  where  I  will  not  appear 
for  a  plaintiff  in  one  of  them  unless  I  can  see  that  his 
case  is  perfectly  clear,  and  that  either  from  ignorance 
or  some  other  sufficient  cause  he  has  not  instituted 
proceedings  before.  Even  then  my  advice  invariably 
is  to  accept  a  compromise  that  seems  to  me  fair,  or 


SEABORN  TORRANCE.  239 

nearly  fair.  Many  people  don't  believe  that  about  me. 
But  what  do  I  care?  It  is  my  business  to  get  for  my 
client — if  I  can — all  his  legal  rights  ;  the  generosity 
part  and  the  charity  part  and  all  such  as  that  are  his 
own.  I  counsel  compromise,  but  it's  neither  my  duty 
nor  my  right  to  undertake  to  enforce  it.  In  defense, 
I  tight  every  assault,  and  there,  if  needed,  I  hang  my 
client's  banner  on  the  outward  wall.  There,  too,  as  I 
am  going  to  do  in  this  case  of  your  mother's,  I  can  and 
I  do  counsel  compromise.  How  would  she  feel  like 
acting  on  that  line,  eh,  Guthrie  ?  You,  too  1  Peace, 
sometimes — like  other  things  of  value — has  to  be  pur- 
chased, and  there  are  occasions  when  it  is  at  a  higher 
price  and,  indeed,  is  worth  more  than  at  others.  Don't 
you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  I  should  be  more  than  willing  for  a 
compromise,  Mr.  Torrance,  that  was  at  all  fair.  I  have 
always  desired — that  is,  since  I  have  been  grown — that 
my  sister  should  have  more  of  the  estate,  and  she  would 
have  got  it  but  for  her  unequal  marriage — " 

"  I  see,  I  see,"  interrupted  Mr.  Torrance,  looking 
another  way. 

"  At  least  what  my  mother  considered  unequal.  In- 
deed, she  offered  other  property  to  her,  but  upon  con- 
ditions that  made  her  refuse  to  accept  it." 

"  I  see,  I  see,"  and  he  nodded  his  head  up  and  down 
two  or  three  times. 

"  I  have  not  suggested  to  her  any  proposal,  because 
she  is  not  in  a  state  of  mind  to  consider  it,  at  least  when 
coming  from  me.  My  mother  believes  herself  to  have 
been  wholly  in  the  right  in  all  she  has  done,  Mr.  Tor- 
rance, and — " 


240 


WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 


"No  doubt  about  that,  Guthrie,"  he  interposed 
quickly,  spreading  forth  his  hands,  "  not  a  shadow  of  a 
doubt  about  that.  That,  my  opinion  is,  nobody  will 
ever  doubt.  I  am  speaking  in  entire  sincerity.  The 
only  question  is  how  much,  if  anything  at  all,  how 
much  she  can  be  made  to  consent  to  lay  down  to  the 
end  of  buying  her  peace." 

"  So  I  regard  it,  and  I  trust  that  you  will  be  able  to 
convince  her  of  its  importance." 

"  Well,  Guthrie,"  he  said,  going  to  a  file  of  papers 
and  withdrawing  a  bundle,  "  as  you  think  it  is  best,  I'll 
go  with  you  in  the  morning,  and  j9<?-ruse  around,  as  coun- 
try people  say,  and  feel  of  Tolly,  and  that  other  young 
chap,  if  he's  there  still.  Tom  isn't  a  bad  fellow,  Guth- 
rie, and  he's  very  far  from  being  a  bad  lawyer.  I'm 
glad  he  isn't  either  one  of  them ;  for  you  can  always 
deal  more  satisfactorily  with  such  a  lawyer  as  him  than 
one  that  has  neither  sense  nor  principle.  Bond,  I  never 
saw  but  twice,  at  your  last  court  and,  before  that,  at 
Washington  Court,  in  the  Middle  Circuit.  The  Au- 
gusta lawyers  that  I  meet  down  there  tell  me  he's  prom- 
ising, quite  so.  I  don't  remember  now  who  it  was  that 
said  that  he  suspected  Bond  of  being  at  Clarke  more  for 
the  sake  of  that  fine-looking  Miss  Jewell  than  the  little 
business  he  had  there.  I  saw  her  at  your  mother's,  at 
the  party  she  gave  that  week.  My  !  but  what  a  mag- 
nificent creature!  By  the  way,  I  haven't  told  you 
what  an  impression  your  rnother  made  on  me  then. 
Grand  woman,  sir  !  I'm  not  flattering  her  at  all,  nor 
you,  either ;  but  she  looked  like  a  queen,  and  her  head 
is  full  of  sense.  I  just  now  remember  that  she  told 
me  that  same  night  that  if  she  should  ever  have  an 


MR.  TORRANCE  GOES  TO  CLARKE.  241 

important  law  case,  she  wanted  me  for  counsel.  I  did 
not  dream  of  it's  coining,  especially  so  soon.  But  it 
shows  the  head  she's  got  for  looking  forward.  Well," 
resuming  his  seat,  and  beginning  to  untie  the  bundle, 
"  if  we  can't  get  out  of  them  terms  such  as  your  mother 
will  be  satisfied  with,  all  I've  got  to  say  is  that  we'll 
keep  those  young  lawyers  waiting  longer  for  their  fees 
than  they  have  been  counting  on.  To-morrow  morn- 
ing, Guthrie,  to-morrow  morning,  as  soon  after  break- 
fast as  I  can  get  off." 


CHAPTER  XXYI. 

ME.  TORRANCE  GOES  TO  CLARKE. 

Mr.  Torrance  spent  an  hour  at  his  office  the  next 
morning  in  writing  some  letters  which  he  said  could 
not  be  delayed,  and  then  they  set  out  upon  their  jour- 
ney of  forty  miles.  Conversation  in  this  mode  of 
travel  was  more  practicable  than  persons  nowadays 
might  suppose.  Often  the  light  two-wheel  vehicles 
could  get  side  by  side,  especially  in  that  season  when 
the  red  roads,  though  frequently  ascending  and  descend- 
ing, were  almost  as  hard  as  if  they  had  been  macad- 
amized. Law,  politics,  agriculture,  incidents  in  the 
lives  of  common  acquaintances,  whatever  was  suggested 
by  accident  or  otherwise,  they  discussed  at  intervals. 
Not  often  was  reference  made  to  the  business  on 
which  they  were  going.  Occasionally  the  elder,  who 
traveled  behind,  getting  alongside,  put  an  inquiry  about 
1G 


242  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

one  or  another  matter  touching  the  value  and  items  of 
the  Guthrie  estate  and  the  several  investments  that 
had  been  made  by  the  executrix,  and  suggested  a  point 
of  the  law  that  was  likely  to  rise  during  the  litigation. 
But  this  last  required  too  constant  nearness  to  make  it 
satisfactory,  and  so  they  chose  to  chat  at  random.  At 
about  noon  they  halted  for  their  luncheon.  It  was  a 
good  one ;  for  Mrs.  Torrance  knew  how  to  provide  for 
her  husband's  taste.  WMle  he  was  cutting  his  favorite 
meat,  he  said  : 

"  Guthrie,  have  you  noticed  that  very  few  women 
know  how  to  prepare  ham  for  a  lunch  ?  They  either 
broil  it,  or  fry  it,  or  sandwich  it  boiled,  and  it  gets  to 
be  so  dry  that  I  won't  eat  it  if  1  can  do  any  better. 
Now  my  wife,  whenever  she  has  timely  notice  that  I'm 
going  away  from  home,  has  boiled  for  me  a  piece  of 
the  hough  end  of  a  ham,  with  the  skin  on ;  hear  me  ? 
with  the  skin  on.  Now  that  chicken,  and  that  pigeon, 
and  that  cake  and  preserves  she  put  in  for  you." 

'•I  thank  her  very  much.  They  are  delightful. 
I'm  quite  content  to  leave  to  you  all  of  your  favorite 
morsel." 

"  Ah,  ha,  that's  because  you  are  not  old  enough,  and 
haven't  traveled  enough  and  have  been  too  little  out  of 
town  life  to  know  any  better.  If  it  had  been  that  I 
was  going  by  myself,  my  wife  wouldn't  have  thought 
of  putting  that  stuff  in  the  sulky  box,  knowing  that  I'd 
give  them  to  the  first  negro  I  met." 

Guthrie  admired  his  simplicity  less  than  the  hearti- 
ness with  which  in  his  one  item  he  made  up  fully  for 
his  abstinence  from  the  others. 

"  There,   now,"  he  said  to  the  remains,  wrapping 


MR.   TORRANCE  GOES  TO  CLARKE.  213 

them  in  the  cloth,  "  you'll  do  for  to-morrow,  and  I'll 
get  some  fresh  biscuits  and  corn  bread  from  my  friend 
Mrs.  Junkin." 

Once  during  the  afternoon,  after  getting  closer,  he 
called  out : 

"  I  say,  Guthrie,  that  Miss  Jewell ;  blamed  if  I 
don't  think  about  her  often,  old  as  I  am,  and  married, 
to  boot.  I  never  saw  a  liner-looking  woman.  She 
made  me  almost  wish  I'd  had  on  finer  clothes ;  I'll 
swear  she  did.  They  tell  me  she's  accomplished,  too. 
That  don't  look  fair  on  other  young  women.  However, 
she  hasn't  got  money  nor  negroes,  and  that  takes  off 
something.  It  seems  like  a  pity  for  her  to  have  to  keep 
school  for  a  living.  If  Bond  wants  her  and  has  busi- 
ness enough  for  both  of  them  to  live  on,  I'm  not  sure 
but  that  she'd  do  well  to  take  him.  It  don't  require  so 
very  much  to  begin  such  as  that  with.  Two  can  live 
together  cheaper  than  they  can  apart,  and  then  these 
Northern  women  know  better  than  ours  how  to  econo- 
mize and  manage  generally.     Eh  ? " 

"  I  incline  to  think  that  perhaps  she  would  be  doing 
well  enough,  Mr.  Torrance." 

"  If  the  fellow  is  in  dead  earnest,  and  you  think  his 
chances  are  rather  slim  and  we  find  that  he's  too  well 
posted  in  our  case,  how  would  it  do  to— well,  to  try  and 
give  him  as  good  a  lift  as  you  can  with  a  friendly  word 
of  compliment  to  his  princess  ?  If  I  knew  her  well 
blamed  if  I  wouldn't!  No  harm  in  it.  Might  turn  out 
the  very  thing  for  her,  and  such  things  do  a  cause  good 
one  way  and  another.     What  do  you  say,  Guthrie  ? " 

"  I  know  too  little  of  either  of  them,  sir,  to  take  or  to 
feel  any  interest  in  their  affairs." 


2^4  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  Hoo,  hoo ! "  ejaculated  the  other  softly,  falling 
back  and  soliloquizing.  "  Screw  loose  somewhere,  cer- 
tain, and  that  only  lately ;  for  I  saw  you  that  night  at 
your  mammy's  looking  at  Bond  and  her  as  a  falcon 
watches  a  hawk  after  a  partridge.     Screw  loose." 

Then  he  suggested  another  topic  as  remote  as  possi- 
ble. They  reached  Clarke  a  little  before  sunset.  Guthrie 
invited  his  senior  to  sojourn  at  his  mother's,  apologiz- 
ing for  not  being  able  to  take  him  to  his  own  house. 

"  No,  oh,  no,  Guthrie.  I  never  talk  to  a  woman  on 
business  at  night  if  I  can  help  it,  and  I  advise  you  to 
adopt  the  same  rule.  "Women  are  more  nervous  than 
men,  because  they  can't  take  in  every  side  of  a  subject 
that  troubles,  and  every  danger  that  threatens,  and 
when  they  are  thrown  out  of  their  accustomed  sleep  it 
hurts  them.  I'll  fall  in  at  Junkin's.  Junkin,  or 
rather  his  wife,  knows  how  to  make  a  fellow  quite 
comfortable,  considering  what  a  lumbering  establish- 
ment they've  got  of  it.  Yes,  I'll  hold  up  there,  thank 
you,  Guthrie.  Tolly  boards  there,  you  know,  and  if 
he's  at  home  and  don't  propose  to  go  out  sparking 
among  the  girls,  I'll  tackle  him  in  a  friendly  way  and 
find  out  if  I  can  how  much  confidence  he's  got  in  the 
range  of  his  gun.  Tell  your  mother,  after  my  best  re- 
spects and  thanks,  that  I'll  call  up  at  her  house  to-mor- 
row morning  at  nine  o'clock,  or,  if  she'll  send  me  word, 
at  any  hour  that  will  better  suit  her  convenience.  And 
tell  her  I  say  not  to  let  herself  be  made  too  uneasy. 
It  does  no  sort  of  good,  but  it  does  several  sorts  of 
harm  to  worry  over  a  matter  like  this,  which  may  take 
a  long  time  to  settle  and  which,  I  tell  you  again,  will 
take  a  Ions;  time  unless  it's  settled  to  her  satisfaction." 


MR.  TORRANCE  GOES  TO  CLARKE.  245 

He  halted  when  lie  arrived  at  the  hotel,  and  Guthrie, 
turning  his  horse,  drove  on  to  his  mother's.  She  was 
looking  out  in  evident  anxious  expectation,  her  cap  and 
her  cape  and  the  ruffles  around  her  wrist  showing  that 
she  wished  to  appear  as  well  as  possible  to  her  distin- 
guished guest. 

"  Where  is  Seaborn  Torrance,  Duncan  ? "  she  called 
by  the  time  he  was  half-way  from  the  gate.  He  did 
not  answer  until  he  had  reached  the  steps.  It  was  a 
way  he  had — the  only  one  even  partially  effective — of 
curbing  her  impetuosity.  A  remonstrance  such  as  that, 
coming  from  him  sometimes,  as  now,  softened  her. 

"  How  have  you  been,  mother,  these  two  days  %  I'd 
like  to  know  that  first,  if  only  from  courtesy." 

She  put  out  her  straight  hand,  saying  : 

"  I've  been  well,  my  son  ;  how  have  you  been  ?  I 
didn't  mean  to  be  impolite." 

"  I've  been  quite  well,  I  thank  you.  Mr.  Torrance 
stopped  at  the  tavern.  He  sent  you  his  regards,  and 
said  that  he  would  call  upon  you  to-morrow  morning  at 
nine  o'clock,  if  the  time  suited  you." 

"  Ah,  well,  then.  I  was  afraid  when  I  saw  you  by 
yourself  that  he  hadn't  come,  and  it  flustered  me  some. 
Yes ;  that'll  suit  well  enough  ;  but  I'd  a  heap  rather  he 
had  come  to-night.  How  would  it  do  for  you  to  go 
down  after  supper  and  invite  him  to  breakfast,  so  we 
can  begin  on  the  business  that  much  sooner.  I  can  give 
him  another  sort  of  breakfast  to  what  he'll  get  there. 
Suppose  you  do  it,  Duncan." 

"  It  would  be  a  mistake,  mother,  I  am  confident. 
"We've  had  a  great  deal  of  talk  about  the  case  during 
our  all-day  ride.     He's  tired,  I  am  sure,  just  as  I  am, 


246  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

and  would  prefer  to  remain  there  until  tlie  time  he  has 
appointed." 

"  Very  well,  then,  if  you  think  so.  I  feel  easier, 
anyhow,  since  I  know  he's  here.  "What  does  he  say  % 
Does  he  think  they  can  get  anything  out  of  me  more 
than  I'm  willing  to  allow  to  the  children  ? " 

"  lie  expressed  no  definite  opinion,  mother,  but  said 
what  I  knew  he  would,  that  he  could  not  form  any  re- 
liable judgment  until  he  had  conferred  fully  with  you 
and  learned  all  your  doings,  feelings,  and  wishes ;  but 
he  seemed  hopeful  that  the  case  could  be  so  managed 
that  it  would  result  nearly,  if  not  entirely,  to  your  rea- 
sonable satisfaction ;  and  he  bade  me  to  say  to  you, 
that  he  hoped  that  you  would  not  take  on  any  undue 
anxiety." 

"  That's  good  !  I  knew  it !  Zvtday  !  "  she  called 
loudly,  looking  back ;  "  bring  in  supper  as  soon  as 
Chloe  has  it  ready.  Your  Marse  Duncan  is  hungry. 
I  know  he  hasn't  had  anything  lit  to  eat  since  he's  been 
gone,  and  I  feel  like  I've  got  something  of  an  appetite 
coming  back  to  me.  The  Lord  knows  I  think  it's  about 
time  for  it." 

After  supper,  when,  at  their  accustomed  seats,  she 
had  been  chatting  in  a  more  cheerful  tone  than  for 
quite  a  long  time,  she  said  suddenly,  the  thought  evi- 
dently having  just  come  to  her  mind  : 

"  Duncan,  what  is  this  talk  about  Miss  Jewell  ? 
Judy  brings  me  what  news  I  get,  as  I  don't  go  out  to 
gather  it,  and  don't  want  to.  But  Judy  says  that  some 
people  are  wondering  what  it  is  that  makes  her  so  pale 
here  lately  and  have  so  little  to  say,  when  she  used  to 
be  so  chatty.     And  they  say  that  since  that  frolic  you 


MR.   TORRANCE  GOES  TO  CLARKE.  247 

all  had  in  my  woods,  you  and  Alice  both  have  little  or 
nothing  to  do  with  her,  and  she  says  they  told  her  that 
Peterson  Braddy  said  on  the  street  one  day,  when  peo- 
ple were  insinuating  something  about  her  with  which 
your  name  was  connected  in  some  way,  that  she  was  as 
fine  a  woman  as  was  in  this  whole  town,  or  anywhere 
else,  and  that  whoever  said  to  the  contrary  was  a  liar, 
and  that  he  was  ready  and  willing  any  time  to  make 
good  his  words.     Is  anything  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Xo,  ma'am;  not  that  I  know  of.  Alice  got  into 
a  pet  that  day  because  I  showed  Miss  Jewell  more  at- 
tention than  she  thought  I  had  any  right  to,  and  per- 
haps the  woman  herself  may  have  been  rather  indis- 
creet. But  there's  nothing  in  it,  and  old  Pete  would  do 
well  to  keep  his  mouth  shut,  because  talking  only  mag- 
nifies the  thing.  I  wish  myself  that  the  woman  would 
get  married  or  go  away." 

"  I'm  sorry,  on  her  account  and  Alice's  too,  that 
your  name  has  been  connected  with  her's  in  any  way 
that  is  not  entirely  honorable.  Charlotte  was  here  ves- 
terday.  Louisa  sends  her  to  see  me  sometimes,  I  sup- 
pose to  keep  up  appearances,  though  I  believe  the  girl 
herself  likes  me  right  well,  and  she  says  that  Miss 
Jewell  is  as  good  a  woman  as  any  other,  and  that  what 
talk  has  been  is  certain  to  die  out.  I  was  right  fflad  to 
hear  it.  As  for  the  woman's  being:  fond  of  dancing- 
and  running  on  with  young  men.  in  my  day  all  girls 
did  it  that  felt  like  it  whenever  they  pleased,  and  no 
harm  ever  came  of  it.  It's  only  for  just  a  few  years 
back,  when  the  Old  Virginia  Church  for  want  of  a 
bishop  in  the  State  has  dwindled  out  to  about  nothing, 
that  so  many  denominations  and  meeting-houses  have 


248  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

started  up,  and  all  trying  to  run  down  one  another,  that 
some  of  them  have  come  to  be  too  good,  and  they've  got 
to  calling  fiddling,  dancing,  and  playing  cards,  and  even 
taking  a  walk  on  Sunday  sinful,  when  they're  not  half 
as  dangerous  as  when  twos  and  twos  get  off  into  cor- 
ners and  go  to  whispering.  I  am  sorry  about  it  all.  It's 
bad  enough  for  a  man  that  has  a  decent,  respectable 
wife,  as  Alice  is,  but  it's  worse,  because  it's  death,  or 
equal  to  it,  to  a  woman  in  Miss  Jewell's  position.  Well, 
I'm  glad  it's  stopped  between  you  and  her.  Alice 
ought  to  know  better  about  the  ways  of  men,  married 
or  not  married,  when  they're  with  pretty  women  that 
will  let  them  take  little  liberties,  and  often  without 
thinking  even  of  the  slightest  thing  wrong.  And  she 
might  know,  Alice  might,  that  no  harm  could  come  to 
her,  as  in  her  style — which,  true,  it's  different  from  Miss 
Jewell's — she's  every  bit  as  good  looking.  If  anybody 
asks  me  about  it,  I'll  tell  them  that  it's  nothing  but  that 
you  and  the  young  woman  were  having  a  little  mis- 
chievous flirtation,  and  having  found  out  that  Alice 
didn't  like  it,  you,  both  of  you,  concluded  to  break  it 
off,  and  that  in  short." 

"Oh,  no,  mother!  I'd  much  rather  you  wouldn't 
mention  the  name  of  Alice.  Just  say  you  know  noth- 
ing about  it,  but  that  you  believe  there's  nothing 
in  it." 

"  But,  Duncan,  there  is  something  in  it,  you  ac- 
knowledge yourself." 

"  But  in  a  delicate  matter  like  that  people  must  use 
some  policy,  mother." 

"  Ah,  well !  I  never  was  one  that  could  make  any 
headway  with  that.     I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  answer  if  any- 


MR.  TORRANCE  BECOMES  LEADING   COUNSEL.  249 

body  ever  mentions  the  thing  to  me,  which  I  don't  ex- 
pect they'll  do,  and  hope  they  won't ;  but  if  they  do,  I'll 
tell  them  that  it  takes  me  all  my  time  to  attend  to  my 
own  business  without  bothering  myself  to  find  out  about 
other  people's.     How  will  that  do  ? " 

"  I  think  that  would  be  the  very  best  answer  you 
could  make." 

"  All  right.  That's  very  easily  said,  and  it  would 
be  every  bit  the  truth.  I  reckon  you're  getting  sleepy. 
I  am." 

He  went  to  his  room,  glad  to  be  by  himself.  The 
honorable,  compassionate  words  which  his  mother  had 
spoken  of  Miss  Jewell  had  cut  him  deeply  and  put 
out  all  thoughts  of  the  pending  lawsuit.  He  felt  that 
in  his  efforts  to  save  himself  a  wrong  had  been  done 
much  more  serious  than  he  had  foreseen.  The  words 
of  Peterson  Braddy  brought  painfully  to  his  remem- 
brance those  other  from  the  same  lips  which  he  had  not 
dared  to  resent,  and  it  pained  but  it  angered  him  more 
to  reflect  that  in  this  new  issue  there  was  no  chance  to 
redeem  whatever  he  might  appear  to  others  or  feel  in 
his  own  breast  to  have  lost  by  a  conflict  with  one  whom 
he  could  meet  on  equal  terms. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

MR.   TORRANCE    BECOMES    LEADING    COUNSEL. 

Mr.  Torrance,  as  usual,  was  the  life  of  the  supper 
table.     Mrs.  Junkin  had  always  a  place  for  him  near 


250  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

the  head ;  for  what  he  said  habitually  about  the  house- 
keeping and  other  subjects  interesting  among  her  class 
were  put  in  such  phrase  that  indeed  she  never  had  any 
hesitation  in  saying  that  of  all  transient  people  that 
came  to  that  tavern  and  to  her  table  lawyer  Torrance 
was  the  pleasantest  in  Ins  speeches  and  the  least  fault- 
finding in  his  behaviors.  She  often  reported  with 
much  pride  that  over  and  over  again  he  had  said  that  if 
there  was  any  place  where  he  felt  as  he  did  at  home, 
it  was  at  the  Clarke  tavern.  On  this  particular  occa- 
sion his  speeches  and  behaviors  were  uncommonly  felici- 
tous, and  they  came  very  near  bringing  water  into  the 
eyes  of  the  hostess.  She  felt  some  moisture  there,  as 
she  confessed  afterward,  but  she  wasn't  going  to  forget 
herself  and  go  to  blubbering  right  at  the  table  before 
everybody. 

"  Guthrie,"  he  said,  "  Duncan  Guthrie,  Mrs.  Junkin 
— you  know  him,  and  a  bright,  smart,  intelligent  fellow 
he  is  too,  in  his  way,  and  going  to  make  a  good  lawyer 
if  he  lives  and  keeps  on  being  steady — he  and  I  came 
together  from  my  town  to-day.  He  invited  me  to  go 
with  him  and  put  up  at  his  mother's,  where  he  told  me 
he  was  staying  while  his  wife  was  on  a  visit  to  her 
father's  t'other  side  of  Broad  River.  He  married  a 
Ludwell  up  there,  you  remember,  Mrs.  Junkin,  fine 
people,  rich  too,  and  all  that.  It  was  very  kind  of  him, 
of  course,  for  he's  a  very  polite  young  man  in  his  manners, 
and  I've  been  told  that  the  old  lady — a  most  remarkable, 
sensible,  excellent  woman — that  she  lives  well,  and  has 
everything  nice  about  her  house.  Hut  I  had  to  tell 
Guthrie  that  no,  I'd  stop  with  Mrs.  Junkin.  I  don't  re- 
member  that  I  ever  mentioned  the  name  of  Mister 


: 


K.e«if<     f< 


Lawyer  Torrance  ami   Mrs.  Junkin. 


MR.  TORRANCE  BECOMES  LEADING   COUNSEL.  251 

Junkin.  There  lie  is  down  yonder,  looking  as  well  and 
as  good-providing  a  fellow  as  anybody  ought  ever  want 
to  see  at  the  foot  of  a  tavern  table.  No ;  the  one  I 
named  was  Missis  Junkin ;  for  it's  her  at  last  that  has 
made  this  house  what  it  is  and  given  to  it  the  name  it's 
got.  The  fact  is,  that  when  I  come  to  this  town  of 
Clarke,  and  a  nice,  stylish,  clean-looking  town  it  is  with 
fine  people  living  in  it,  I  never  even  think  about  stop- 
ping anywhere  else  but  here,  right  here,  where,  if  any- 
where I  know  I'm  going  to  feel  as  I  do  at  home. 
And  I  think  I  was  right." 

]\Irs.  Junkin  merely  called  to  one  of  the  waitresses 
and  said  to  her  :  "  Go  out  and  tell  Mirny  to  send  the  hot 
waffles  in  fast  as  she  can." 

"Now,  there's  my  young  friend  Tom  Tolly  over 
there.  I  call  him  Tom,  because  I've  been  knowing  his 
father  before  he  was  born,  another  good  man.  I'm 
glad  to  see,  from  the  way  Tom  throws  his  knife  and 
fork  and  handles  cups  and  tumblers,  that  he  knows  and 
appreciates  good  things  when  he  can  get  them.  I've 
been  having  my  hopes  about  that  young  man,  Mrs. 
Junkin." 

Now  the  lady  could  exhibit  her  feelings  "svithout 
embarrassment,  and  so  she  smiled  right  out  aloud. 

"  That  is,  provided,  madam,  he  don't  get  wild  and 
undertake  to  go  too  fast ;  there's  the  danger  with  these 
talented  young  fellows.  I'm  thankful  he's  with  you, 
madam,  for  if  there's  anybody  in  this  whole  town  that 
will  have  the  opportunity  and  will  have  the  knack  at 
such  charitable,  and,  I  may  say,  missionary  work,  it  is 
you,  who,  when  you  see  him  rushing  into  extravagance 
of  any  sort,  can  call  him  to  come  right  straight  to  you 


252  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

and  then  lay  your  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  say :  '  See 
here,  young  Mr.  Tolly,  thus  far,  sir,  thus  far ! '  Eh, 
Tolly  ? " 

"  She  does  already  as  you  say,  Mr.  Torrance,"  an- 
swered Tolly  heartily.  "Mrs.  Junkin  takes  first-rate 
care  of  me,  and  scolds  me  sometimes." 

"Sometimes!  I  think  I  hear  him  say  'sometimes.' 
Mrs.  Junkin,  I  beg  you,  madam,  if  not  for  his  sake  at 
least  for  the  sake  of  his  old  father  and  mother,  excel- 
lent people  that  they  are,  both  of  them,  and,  I  may  add, 
for  the  sake  of  any  family  which,  accidentally  as  it 
were,  he  may  stumble  on  of  his  own  sometime,  do,  my 
dear  madam,  try  your  best,  what  time  you  can  leave 
more  important  business,  try  to  hold  back  that  rash 
young  man  from  rushing  too  fast  and  spoiling  every 
good  prospect  before  him." 

It  was  such  a  good  joke  that  the  whole  table,  regu- 
lar boarders  and  transient,  all  the  way  down  to  Mr.  Jun- 
kin, laughed  out  with  great  heartiness,  and  both  Mr. 
Torrance  and  Tolly  took  another  hot  waffle  apiece  and 
spread  their  butter  on  it  in  high  glee.  Yet,  somehow, 
in  Tolly  the  feeling  of  courageous  exaltation  that  came 
over  him  at  the  moment  of  the  arrival  of  the  great  law- 
yer, knowing  well  on  what  errand  he  had  come,  had  less- 
ened somewhat  while  he  had  been  listening  as  he  in- 
dulged in  language  in  which  he  almost  suspected  that  he 
could  detect  a  grain  of  compassionate  satire.  Mr.  Tor- 
rance saw  into  his  thoughts,  and  immediately  began  to 
address  him  with  remarks  that  indicated  all  proper  re- 
spect for  his  opinions.  After  supper,  and  after  all 
except  those  two  had  gone  from  the  piazza,  the  elder 
said : 


MR.  TORRANCE  BECOMES  LEADING  COUNSEL.  253 

"  Tom,  move  your  chair  closer  here  and  give  me 
some  account  of  yourself.  Don't  light  that  cigar  I  see 
in  your  mouth  unless,  from  mere  patriotic  principles, 
you  hold  it  a  duty  to  smoke  such  as  your  town  affords. 
But  now  try  one  that  is  a  cigar.  I  don't  know  how  it 
is,  but  it's  so,  that  I  never  can  lind  in  this  borough,  re- 
spectable as  it  is  and  rich  as  you  all  are  and  proud  ac- 
cording, a  cigar  that's  fit  to  smoke.  "We  don't  set 
up  for  being  very  great  people  in  our  town,  although 
there's  a  few  that  can  hold  their  heads  as  high  as  any- 
body—I don't  mean  me  and  my  folks,  of  course,  but  a 
very  good  fair  sprinkling  of  others  who  can  trace  as  far 
back  as  the  best  in  the  land.  Yet  we  would  be  ashamed 
to  oifer  to  any  decent  stranger  such  cigars  as  you  have 
here.  That's  right ;  only  I'd  rather  have  seen  you — 
except  for  economy's  sake — throw  away  the  one  you 
had,  instead  of  putting  it  back  into  your  pocket.  And 
now,  my  illustrious  and  learned  young  barrister  and 
affectionate  friend,  what  is  all  this  ado  about  that  most 
respectable  and  somewhat  aged  fellow-citizen  of  yours 
whose  repose  you  are  seeking  to  molest  ?  She  sent  me 
word  to  come  up  and  talk  with  her  about  the  defense. 
I  haven't  seen  her  yet,  but,  knowing  you  as  I  do,  and 
judging  from  what  I  know  myself  of  her  and  from 
what  Guthrie  has  told  me  about  her,  I  don't  suppose 
but  what  we  can  settle  in  a  short  time  what  there  is  in 
it,  unless  you  fellows  want  to  make  a  long  years-and- 
years'  thing  of  it.  Do  you  know  where  that  fellow 
Suttle  is,  if  it's  a  fair  question,  and  whether  or  not  the 
other  witness  besides  him  and  Braddy  is  living  or  not  ? " 

It  had  occurred  to  Tolly  and  Bond  that  it  might  be 
well,  in  order  to  lay  a  supplemental  foundation  for 


254  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

their  equity  proceeding,  to  apply  for  a  citation  to  the 
executrix  to  prove  the  will  of  Alan  Guthrie  in  solemn 
form.  This  must  have  been  done  at  the  next  sitting  of 
the  Court  of  Ordinary,  which  would  come  in  thirty 
days.  Both  sides  were  desirous  of  postponing  this  issue 
and  they  knew,  of  course,  that  a  motion  for  continuance 
on  account  of  inability  to  get  in  full  testimony  must 
prevail.  Yet  each  was  unwilling  for  the  other  to  know 
of  such  desire,  and  Tolly  could  not  but  be  amused  when 
Mr.  Torrance  succeeded  in  getting  from  him  a  proposi- 
tion to  appeal  the  whole  case  by  consent  to  the  Superior 
Court,  which  would  not  convene  until  October. 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  Tom,  if  you  and  Mr.  Bond  want  it 
done.  I  am  going  to  fight  the  case  fairly,  and,  though 
I  haven't  seen  her  yet,  I've  no  doubt  but  that  the  old 
lady  will  abide  by  my  counsel  and  that  it  will  coincide 
fully  with  her  views  and  feelings  to  meet  the  issue 
fairly,  entirely  so.  As  far  as  I  can  see,  Tom,  I  must 
say  to  you  that  I  don't  think  you've  got  what  I  should 
call  very  much  of  a  case,  to  say  nothing  of  the  Statute 
of  Limitations  and  what  the  law  calls  Lapse  of  time. 
Still,  it  may  be  best  for  both  sides  not  to  rush  together 
in  hot  haste,  but  wait  a  little  and  study  how  to  arrange 
and  play  their  cards." 

Tolly  changed  the  subject  several  times,  but  after- 
ward he  had  to  admit  to  himself  and  to  Bond  that,  de- 
spite all  his  caution,  he  had  let  out  several  things  which 
he  thought  that  he  might  as  well  have  kept  to  himself. 
They  talked  to  a  late  hour,  and  during  a  greater  part  of 
the  time  Mr.  Torrance  seemed,  as  if  he  had  forgotten 
the  errand  on  which  he  had  come.  Occasionally  he 
indulged  in  partially  commendatory  terms  of  the  need 


MR.   TORRANCE   BECOMES  LEADING   COUNSEL.  255 

young  lawyers  had  not  to  turn  away  from  cases  wherein 
was  little  prospect  of  obtaining  anything  beyond  the 
notoriety  that  was  essential.  He  retired  satisfied  of  the 
results  of  what,  not  without  some  humor,  he  had  termed 
"  feeling  "  of  Tom  Tolly. 

The  next  morning  he  was  much  impressed  by  the 
mingled  cordiality,  grace,  and  dignity  with  which  he 
was  received  by  Mrs.  Guthrie.  In  the  conference  that 
followed  were  to  be  seen  his  calm  wisdom  and  saga- 
cious comprehending  of  possibilities  dependent,  not 
only  upon  the  law  of  the  case,  but  the  temper,  courage, 
power  of  endurance,  and  prudence  of  the  client.  He 
listened  with  attention,  not  always  fixed,  to  her  long, 
circumstantial  narration.  He  looked  admiringly  into 
her  eyes  as,  always  lighted,  they  flashed  occasionally 
with  a  resentment  which  she  did  not  care  to  repress. 
!Not  an  item  in  her  conduct,  from  the  first  till  now,  did 
she  seem  disposed  even  to  gloss.  More  than  once  Dun- 
can felt  his  cheek  burn  as  she  made  admissions  that  he 
knew  to  be  surprising  to  Mr.  Torrance.  Before  she 
was  through,  the  latter  had  decided  to  withhold  most 
of  the  opinion  he  had  to  give.  When  she  ceased  and 
looked  at  him  with  earnest  interrogation,  he  said : 

"  Yes,  madam.  I  see,  I  see.  I  think  I  understand 
the  business,  and  I  am  glad  to  say  that  it  has  less  diffi- 
culties than  I  had  apprehended.  I  am  glad,  very  glad 
indeed,  that  you  had  intended  to  give  your  daughter 
property,  although  stipulating,  as  was  your  perfect 
right  to  do,  that  it  should  be  held  for  her  separate  use. 
It  ought  to  make  for  your  interest  that  your  offer  was 
declined.  I  am  more  than  glad  that  you  have  had  it 
on  your  mind,  since  her  death,  to  make  over  something 


256  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

(I  am  sure  it  would  have  been  a  liberal  and  just  allow- 
ance) to  her  children.  Such  as  that  is  bound  to  help 
in  the  defense  of  this  suit." 

After  other  conversation  upon  the  general  aspect  of 
the  case,  he  said  : 

"  We'll  all  think  about  it,  madam,  and,  of  course, 
we  must  keep  our  counsel  to  ourselves.  That  is  impor- 
tant. Nobody  must  look  over  our  hands  or  get  a 
glimpse  of  them.  Your  son,  my  young  friend  here, 
will  advise  me  of  anything  to  occur  that  may  make  it 
seem  advisable  for  me  to  come  again  soon.  I  don't  ex- 
pect it,  however.  There  will  be  nothing  needed  for 
some  time  yet,  as  I  have  agreed  with  Tolly  to  appeal 
the  whole  case  to  the  Superior  Court.  I  know  you 
and  your  son  will  say  that  was  right,  as  we  shall  want 
all  the  delay  we  can  get.  I  will  come  again  some  time 
before  the  court  meets,  when  he  and  I  will  prepare  your 
answer  and  have  an  extended  conference  about  the  line 
of  defense." 

"  I  shall  follow  your  advice  implicitly,  Mr.  Tor- 
rance," said  Mrs.  Guthrie ;  "  I  want  to  assure  you  of 
that  at  the  outset." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  madam,  I  could  see  that  as  soon  as 
we  began  to  speak  about  the  case.  You  are  a  lady  that 
understands  business,  and  therefore  will  readily  judge 
of  our  counsel.  My  opinion  is  that  we  can  get  terms, 
if  not  right  away,  after  a  time  that  will  be  reasonably 
liberal,  and  that  it  will  be  at  least  worth  our  while  to 
consider.  These  men,  like  the  common  run  of  young 
lawyers,  will  want,  and  they'll  need  their  fees,  and 
they  are  not  going  to  forget  that  if  it  is  to  depend 
on  fighting  in  a  case  like  this,  your  son  and  I  know 


MR.  TORRANCE  BECOMES  LEADING  COUNSEL.  257 

what  that  means,  and  how  long  it  can  be  made  to 
last.  I  don't  know,"  he  continued,  smiling,  "  that  Tolly 
meant  for  me  to  find  it  out,  but  I  did,  and  I  was  glad 
of  it.  Indeed,  I  rather  thought  so  from  his  client  hay- 
ing made  application  for  guardianship  ;  but  he  is  suing 
really  in  behalf  of  the  children,  not  of  his  own.  That, 
I've  no  doubt,  will  make  a  difference  in  your  feel- 
ings." 

"  Why,  certainly,  certainly." 

"  I  knew  it ;  and  now  I  must  take  my  leave,  as  I 
am  to  meet  an  appointment  in  Milledgeville  to-morrow 
nisht,  and  it  will  be  as  much  as  I  can  do  to  make  it. 
It  was  hardly  necessary  for  me  to  come  at  this  time,  ex- 
cept for  your  own  satisfaction  and  for  having  the  case 
appealed.  I  am  delighted  to  find  you  so  self-possessed 
and  resolute.  I  was  afraid  you  might  be  over-anxious. 
Some  time  shortly  I  will  return ;  then  we  will  confer 
about  defense.  The  first  thing  we  shall  do  will  be  to 
file  a  demurrer.  You  don't  understand  that  term,  I  sup- 
pose ;  but  your  son  will  tell  you  that  in  law  it  signifies 
to  delay.  That  is  our  hand  for  the  present,  and  it  may 
continue  to  be  longer  than  these  young  chaps  have  been 
counting  upon.  Good-by,  madam.  I  commend  your 
pluck — I  hardly  know  how  better  to  style  it— -and  I 
haven't  a  doubt  that  it  will  serve  you  to  the  end. 
Good-by,  Mr.  Guthrie.  It  strengthens  me  much  that  I 
have  you  for  my  colleague." 

"  That's  the  sort  of  lawyer  for  me ! "  said  Mrs. 
Guthrie  almost  loud  enough  for  his  hearing.  TThen 
he  had  passed  through  the  gate,  he  turned,  took  off  his 
hat,  and  waved  a  final  adieu,  which  she  answered  with 
a  low  respectful  courtesy. 
17 


258  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  Bv  blood !  "  said  he  to  himself,  as  he  moved  awa}r. 
"  Grandest  woman  I  ever  saw  ;  but  crazy  !  Crazy  as  a 
bed-bug ! " 

Half  an  hour  afterward,  having  ordered  his  horse 
to  be  brought  out,  he  made  a  parting  visit  to  Tolly  at 
his  office. 

"  Well,  Tom,  my  son,"  he  said,  "  I  just  stepped  in 
to  tell  you  good-by.  I've  just  come  from  the  presence 
of  the  very  head  citizen  of  this  town,  whom,  I'm  sim- 
ply amazed  that  none  of  you  people  understand  well 
enough  to  appreciate  at  her  just  worth.  I  want  to  say 
to  you  at  parting,  Thomas,  my  boy,  that — where  was  it 
the  Ghost  notified  Brutus  of  his  intention  to  meet 
him  ? " 

"  At  Philippi,  according  to  my  remembrance. 

"  I  believe  you  are  right.  Well,  sir,  there  expect 
me,  and  when  you've  suffered  a  more  signal  defeat  than 
he  got,  don't  make  an  ass  of  yourself,  and  go  to  falling 
upon  your  own  sword.     Hear,  Tom  ? " 

"  Good-by,  Mr.  Torrance.  Tou  will  find  me  there 
in  force  sufficient,  I  trust,  to  avoid  the  fate  of  that 
illustrious  patriot." 

Tolly  had  hoped  that  he  had  come  to  propose  a 
compromise.  But  such  was  not  that  lawyer's  policy. 
It  was,  while  supposed  to  be  ignorant  of  all  the  bear- 
ings in  the  case,  to  raise  expectations  which  acquaint- 
ance with  them  had  led  him  to  disappoint.  As  lie 
was  riding  out  of  town,  he  turned  his  head  toward  the 
high  grove  wherein  was  his  client's  mansion,  and  thus 
soliloquized : 

"  A  woman  fit  to  be  a  queen !  A  good  one,  too  ; 
worth  forty  of  that  Dunk ;  I  see  now  where  some  of 


BOND  UNTERTAKES  ANOTHER  CASE.     259 

his  ways  started  from.  He  knows  no  more  about  her 
than  the  rest  of  them.  Wonderful !  I  had  suspicion 
of  it  that  night  at  her  party.  I  was  expecting  it  to  be  a 
long  case  ;  but  it  won't.  Get  up,  John !  We've  got  to 
make  time  to-day." 


CHAPTER   XXYIII. 

BOND  UNDERTAKES  ANOTHER  CASE. 

Four  days  afterward  everybody  except  Tolly  was 
surprised  at  the  reappearance  of  Bond,  accompanied  by 
Julius  Holt,  a  slight,  bright-eyed,  dressy  young  lawyer 
of  Augusta. 

"  Well,  Tolly,"  said  Bond,  after  shaking  hands  and 
introducing  his  companion,  "  here  I  am.  Anything 
new  in  our  case  ?  But  you  can  tell  me  of  that  after- 
ward. I  brought  my  friend  Holt  along  in  order  to 
show  him  that  Augusta  and  Savannah  were  not  the 
only  places  wherein  nice  people  abode.  But  it  is  stipu- 
lated between  us  that  he  is  not  to  lay  eyes  on  Miss  Mac- 
farlane  while  in  this  town  he  stays." 

"  How  do  you  suppose  Miss  Macfarlane  will  regard 
such  treatment  ? " 

"  Oh,  if  she  complains,  tell  her  that  he  was  ex- 
tremely busy  (a  thing  not  habitual),  or  that  you  hesi- 
tated to  take  him  to  her  except  by  her  permission, 
which  you  had  not  time  to  ask,  or  that  he  was  bashful 
and  you  couldn't  get  him  to  go,  or  that  he  was  already 
engaged  and  was  afraid  to  go  near  a  young  -woman  of 
whose  perfections  he  had  heard  so  many  speeches,  or 


260  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

frame  any  other  reason  that  may  occur  to  your  mind  so 
fertile  in  resources  and  expedients. 

"  The  safest  thing  for  me  to  do,  Mr.  Holt,  I  suspect, 
is  to  take  you  to  see  the  young  lady  and  trust  to  your 
generosity." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Tolly.  From  what  Bond  has  told 
me  about  yourself,  I  should  be  the  last  to  engage  in  any 
sort  of  contest  with  you,  with  hope  of  success." 

"  There !  "  said  Bond.  "  Now  everybody  can  feel 
easy.  You  may  see  this  paragon,  Holt,  if  we  find  that 
we  have  time  and  Tolly  don't  take  back  his  words." 

After  supper,  Bond  left  the  party  and  went  to  see 
Miss  Jewell. 

"  Why,  you  back  here,  and  so  soon  ? "  she  said. 
"  Yours  and  Mr.  Tolly's  case  must  be  pressing." 

"  Yes ;  but  you  must  remember  that  I  have  one  of 
my  own  that  is  much  more  so." 

"Which  I  have  told  you  several  times  that  you 
must  give  up." 

Yet  she  could  not  conceal  the  pleasure  she  felt  at 
his  coming.  She  was  dressed  with  unusual  care,  and 
the  color  returning  to  her  cheek  showed  that  the  frame 
of  her  mind  was  beginning  to  be  happy  again. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  with  seriousness,  "  and  you  know 
well  that  that  is  what  I  can  not  do.  After  what  you 
admitted  to  me,  I  can  not  comprehend  that  you  should 
be  willing  that  I  should.  To  me,  it  seems  simple  injus- 
tice to  put  upon  a  man  who  loves  you  with  all  his  heart 
punishment — only  punishment — when  you  admit  that 
your  preference  would  be  to  reward." 

"  Punishment !  punishment,  Mr.  Bond  \  Why  I  love 
you  also.     I  love  you  very  much.     I  love  you  more 


BUND  UNDERTAKES  ANOTHER  CASE.     261 

and  more.  No,  no,  keep  your  seat,  or  I  will  leave 
you." 

The  deep  blush  that  overspread  her  face  soon  sub  • 
sided. 

"  Since  I  have  found  that  my  feelings  are  more  en- 
listed than  I  had  known  of,  I  have  felt  that  I  ought 
to  e-o  back  to  Boston.  After  the  term  of  Cousin  Will- 
iam's  school  ends,  my  intention  is  to  go  to  Augusta  for 
a  week's  sojourn  with  sister.  While  I  am  there,  under 
certain  conditions,  I  will  tell  you  frankly  and  fully  why 
I  can  not  marry  you.  At  least,"  she  added,  with  a  yet 
deeper  blush,  "  why  I  think  so.  Please  do  not  ask  me 
for  anything  more — now." 

"  I  will  not ;  but  you  will  at  least  let  me  take  vour 
hand  ? " 

She  looked  at  him.  His  face  was  as  full  of.  respect 
as  affection.  She  gave  no  answer;  then  he  rose,  ad- 
vanced, took  her  hand,  and,  as  she  turned  her  face  away, 
kissed  her  cheek. 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  have  allowed  that,  Mr. 
Bond ;  but  the  thought  of  leaving  you — "  then  she 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  To  help  her  em- 
barrassment, he  said  quickly  as  if  he  had  forgotten  to 
tell  her  sooner : 

"  Oh !  I  forgot  to  tell  you  something.  Holt  is  with 
me,  Julius  Holt." 

"  Julius  Holt !  Why  what  could  have  brought  him 
here  ?     Why  didn't  he  come  with  you  to  see  me  ? " 

"  Well,  now,  to  tell  the  truth,  Miss  Jewell,  I  didn't 
care  about  his  company,  this  evening." 

"  It  would  have  been  better  for  both  our  sakes  if 
you  had  brought  him.     What  is  he  here  for  I     Have 


202  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

you  and  Mr.  Tolly  taken  him  into  your  case  ?  I  didn't 
know  lie  was  so  much  of  a  lawyer  as  that." 

"No.  When  he  heard  that  I  was  coming,  he  said 
that  he  had  a  little  business  here,  and  besides  that  he 
would  like  to  take  something  of  a  jaunt,  and  so  he  came 
along.     He'll  be  sure  to  call  before  he  leaves." 

"  Tell  him  he  must.  I  like  Julius  Holt,  though  I 
didn't  suppose  that  he  had  much  law  business,  even  in 
Augusta.     When  are  you  going  back  ? " 

"  In  a  day  or  two  ;   just  as  soon  as  I  can  get  away." 

He  returned  to  the  tavern  in  triumph. 

"  I  feel  like  a  new  man,  my  good  boys."  After  re- 
ceiving their  congratulations,  he  continued  : 

"  Let's   fire  up,  and,  although   as   they  say  in   the 

cracker  region,  it's  mighty  sildom  I  teches  it,  yet  on  the 

strength  of  the  occasion,  I'll  take  a  drink  if  I  can  git  it. 

Bring  out  what  you've  got  in  that  hair  trunk  of  yours, 

Holt.     I  knew  you  well  enough  to  feel  sure  you  would 

bring  some  of  the  article  along,  and  so  I  didn't. 

But  pledge  me  the  cup,  since  existence  would  cloy, 
With  hearts  ever  happy,  and  heads  ever  wise ; 
Be  ours  the  light  grief  that  is  sister  to  joy, 
And  the  short  brilliant  folly  that  sparkles  and  dies ! 

But  we  shall  be  moderate.     What  saith  the  jolly  yet 

temperate  bard  of  Venusium  : 

Tribus  aut  novem 
Miscentur  cyathis  pocula  commodis — 

Tres  prohibet  supra 
Rixarum  metuens  tangere  Gratia, 

Nudis  juncta  sororibus. 

Did  you  hear  me,  Holt  ?  " 

"  Bond,  I  did  ;  but  never  since  I  was  born — I'll 
swear  —  I  never  did  hear  whisky  called  by  so  many 


BOND  UNDERTAKES  ANOTHER  CASE.     263 

names.     He   does  want  it  badly ;   don't  he,  Mr.  Tol- 
ljr?" 

"He  wants  something,  evidently,  Mr.  Holt.  I 
didn't  exactly  follow  him  throughout  the  words  of  his 
request." 

"  No,  Tolly  ? "  asked  the  principal  speaker.  "  Then 
I'll  inflict  upon  both  of  you  the  rest  of  that  glorious 
Ode  to  Telephus : 

"  Insanirejuvat,  which  means  it  is  delightful  to  play 
the  fool :  so  hear,  ye  ignoramuses,  or  as,  with  proper 
respect  for  the  analogies  of  language,  I  should  say,  igno- 
rant l. 

"  Insanire  juvat — " 

"  Stop  it !  "  cried  Holt.  "  Just  look  at  him,  throwing 
about  his  arms  as  if  he  understood  what  he  was  trying 
to  repeat!  I'll  bet  five  dollars  that's  all  he  knows  of 
Horace !  " 

"And  in  the  event  of  your  losing  who  is  to  pay 
your  bill  at  this  tavern,  Mr.  Holt?  But,  Tolly,"  he 
continued  as  he  poured  from  the  bottle,  "  let's  come 
down  to  contemporary  times ;  you  haven't  told  me  any- 
thing yet  about  our  law  case,  except  that  Torrance  has 
been  here.  "What  did  the  old  fellow  do,  and  what  did 
he  say  ? " 

"  He  came  here,  I  think,  for  the  purpose  mainly  of 
getting  us  to  consent  to  an  appeal,  what,  as  you  know, 
we  wanted.  Still,  he  managed  to  make  me  propose  it. 
I  found  that  I  had  to  do  it,  and  I  did.  "What  a  won- 
derful man  ! " 

"  That  he  is  !  "We  have  not  a  lawyer  in  our  circuit  to 
compare  with  him.  I  saw  him  in  a  case  at  the  last  term 
of  "Washington  Court,  and  it   almost  demoralized  my 


264  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

hopes  of  making  myself  what  I  aspire  to  be  when  I 
noticed  his  consummate  power  and  art.  Yet  I  have 
no  fears  of  him  in  this  case.  Indeed,  I  thought  once 
that  I  saw  a  chance  during  that  trial  when,  if  I  had 
been  on  the  other  side,  I  could  have  given  him  a  stab 
under  the  fifth  rib.  Still,  I  dare  say  he  might  have 
parried  it,  as  Barrington,  who  was  against  him,  said  he 
would  have  done." 

"  How  did  the  case  go  1 " 

"  They  stopped  it  before  it  got  to  the  jury.  Some- 
how, somebody  had  mislaid  some  paper,  which  couldn't 
be  found,  and  Torrance,  what  he  had  asked  for  at  the 
call,  claimed  and  got  a  continuance.  I  heard  that 
they  compromised  afterward,  as  the  adversary  declared 
that  he  couldn't  afford  to  wait  forever  for  the  whole  of 
his  money." 

"  He  talked  about  a  compromise  on  the  night  he  got 
here,  but  after  he  saw  Mrs.  Guthrie,  he  said  nothing  at 
all  tending  that  way,  but  looked  intensely  confident,  and 
was  quite  boastful." 

"  He  had  his  reasons  for  both,  we  may  be  sure." 

When  Holt  had  retired  to  his  room,  Bond  remained. 

"  Tolly,"  he  said,  "  I  thought  a  good  deal  whether 
or  not  I  should  call  upon  you  to  help  me  in  this  busi- 
ness, and  I  decided  that  I  ought  not.  In  the  first  place, 
I  suspected  that  you  are  opposed  conscientiously  to  such 
manner  of  adjustment.  Then,  you  reside  in  the  town, 
in  which  I  am  almost  an  entire  stranger,  and  are  on 
terms  of  friendship  with  this  man's  family  and  family 
connections.  They,  or  the  most  of  them  in  such  a  seri- 
ous issue  must,  at  least,  appear  to  side  with  him." 

"  If  you  had  called  upon  me,  Bond,  I  might  have 


BOND  UNDERTAKES  ANOTUER  CASE.     2G5 

agreed  to  stand  with  you,  especially  with  intent  to  try 
to  adjust  the  matter  without  resort  to  a  hostile  meeting, 
though,  of  course,  much  as  I  would  have  regretted,  I 
should  have  had  to  go  with  you  to  whatever  end  might 
result  from  failure  of  discussion,  and  I  beg  of  you  again 
to  consider  calmly  whether  or  not  you  may  let  it  re- 
adjust itself  as  it  has  almost  done  already.  Does  Miss 
Jewell  suspect  anything  A  " 

"  No,  indeed.  That  is  why  I  went  without  Holt  to- 
night. I  told  her  Holt  had  come  up  on  a  little  business 
and  would  call  to  see  her  before  he  went  away.  He  can 
mislead  her  easily.  If  she  knew  what  we  had  come  for, 
she  would  do  whatever  she  could  to  prevent  it.  That 
is  what  is  making  her  keep  her  secret.  She  said  to-night 
that  while  she  lingered  in  Augusta  on  her  way  North 
she'd  tell  it  to  me  upon  conditions.  I  knew  what  they 
would  be,  and  that  is  the  reason  that  I  have  been  in 
such  haste.  But,  Tolly,  the  idea  of  waiting  for  the 
mere  lapse  of  time  to  set  up  a  good  woman's  name  from 
it's  fall,  or  even  it's  decline,  by  the  tongue  of  such  a  man 
as  Duncan  Guthrie  !  If  she  and  I  both  continue  to  live 
Miss  Jewell  is  to  become  my  wife.  I  could  never  hold 
up  my  head  in  that  man's  presence  afterward,  knowing 
that  he  remembered  how  she,  unmarried,  without  a  male 
protector,  had  been  made  to  suffer  first  from  his  ruffian 
insult,  and  afterward  more  keenly,  if  possible,  from  his 
slandering  tongue  or  his  slandering  silence.  The  law 
and  religious  people,  as  they  ought,  discourage  duel- 
ing. I  myself  am  a  man  of  more  profound  religious 
feeling  than  I  appear  to  be.  I  admit  that  endurance  is  a 
higher  virtue  than  even  the  justest  resentment,  measured 
by  the  standard  of  religion,  if  indeed  any  degree  of  re- 


266  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

sentment  may  be  called  just.  But  sucli  virtue  pertains 
to  saints,  of  whom  I  am  not  and  I  never  could  hope  to 
be  one,  and  I  could  not  be  made  to  believe  that  he  could 
be  made  contributory  to  the  sanctiiication  of  anybody. 
The  difficulty  is  that  the  satisfaction  proposed  by  the 
law  and  religious  people  is  sometimes  inadequate  or  im- 
practicable. The  latter  say  suffer,  endure,  forgive,  and 
be  thankful ;  the  other  commends  to  mulct  by  a  suit  be- 
fore the  courts  in  pecuniary  damages.  These  point  to 
what  to  a  million  of  endeavors  is  unattainable  ;  the 
other  offers  what  in  sensitive  minds  exacerbates  instead 
of  mitigating  injuries.  Miss  Jewell,  a  young  woman, 
a  stranger  in  a  strange  land,  without  means,  indeed,  ex- 
cept the  little  wage  that  she  earns  by  laborious  employ- 
ment of  her  gifts,  seeking  to  recover  from  Duncan 
Guthrie  compensation  for  wounds  to  her  honor  and  her 
happiness  in  mere  money !  The  dear  girl  has  been 
saved  from  utter  prostration  by  the  consciousness  of 
her  innocence,  and  the  support  of  that  brave  girl,  Miss 
Macfarlane.  My  God  !  It  nearly  made  me  cry  to- 
night when  I  saw  upon  her  face  the  humble  thankful- 
ness that  was  in  her  heart !  No,  Mr.  Tolly  !  That 
man,  however  costly  it  may  be  to  himself,  must  put 
matters  where  they  were  on  the  first  day  when  she  came 
into  this  town  of  Clarke  and  began  her  work  with  all 
people's  fair  opinions  and  friendly  encouragement.  If 
he  refuses  so  to  do,  I  shall  try  to  find  and  let  this  public 
know  the  reason  why.  Good-night,  dear  friend." 
Without  another  word  from  either  he  went  out. 


THE  CORRESPONDENCE  OF  BOND  AND  GUTHRIE.  2G7 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  CORRESPONDENCE  OF  BOND  AND  GUTHRIE. 

About  nine  o'clock  on  the  following  morning  as 
Bond  and  Holt  were  sitting  on  the  piazza  looking  out 
upon  the  court-house  square,  Guthrie,  having  come 
down  the  street  from  his  mother's  residence,  turned  and 
proceeded  to  his  office.     Thither  Holt  at  once  repaired. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Holt !  This  is  a  surprise.  I  hardly 
recognized  you  at  first,  so  far  out  of  your  beat ;  I  am 
really  glad  to  see  you.  When  did  you  come  ?  Are  you 
just  from  Augusta  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Guthrie,  I  came  in  last  night  with 
Mr.  Bond." 

"Yes!"  said  Guthrie,  his  cordiality  subsiding  in- 
stantly. 

"  I  have  called  in  order  to  hand  you  this  note.  I  will 
be  at  the  tavern  where  I  shall  be  pleased  to  receive  and 
convey  to  Mr.  Bond  your  answer." 

A  subdued  smile  came  upon  Guthrie's  face  as  he 
read  the  note  which  ran  as  follows : 

"  Clarke,  June  26,  1828. 
"  To  Duncan  Guthrie,  Esq. 

"  Sir  :  On  Saturday,  the  2nd  of  last  month,  you  ad- 
dressed to  Miss  Sarah  Jewell  language  grossly  insulting. 
This  is  meant  to  indicate  to  you  the  duty  of  making  in 
writing  distinct  recognition  of  the  truth  of  this  com- 
plaint, and  as  distinct  admission  that  nothing  in  her  de- 
portment then  or  theretofore  had  authorized  you  to  ex- 
pect any  result  other  than  impunity,  because  of  the  re- 


208  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

moteness  of  her  family  and  the  absence  of  any  friend  to 
protect  her  from  the  outrage  or  chastise  its  infliction. 

"  This  will  be  handed  you  by  my  friend  Julius  Holt, 
Esq.     Yours,  etc., 

"  Christopher  Boxd." 

"WTien  he  had  read  the  note  he  threw  it  upon  the 
table  as  if  it  was  not  of  much  importance,  and  said : 

"  The  circumstances  give  me  plenty  of  time  to  answer, 
Mr.  Holt ;  but  as  I  can  see  no  reason  for  delay,  I  will 
do  so  as  soon  as  I  can  communicate  with  a  friend  who 
resides  just  beyond  the  Savannah  Kiver.  I  will  send  a 
message  to  him  forthwith,  and  I  shall  hope  that  he  will 
get  here  by  to-morrow  night.  If  he  does,  or  as  soon  as 
he  does,  I  will  communicate  with  Mr.  Bond  further." 

"  That  will  be  entirely  satisfactory,  Mr.  Guthrie.  AYe 
shall  await  at  the  tavern  the  answer  that,  after  advising 
with  your  friend,  it  may  please  you  to  make." 

"  And  now,  have  you  time  to  tell  me  any  news  from 
your  fair  city  ? " 

"  There  is  nothing  to  tell,  Mr.  Guthrie,  even  if  both  of 
us  had  leisure.    I  think  I  must  now  return  to  Mr.  Bond." 

"  Then  I  won't  endeavor  to  detain  you  longer,  Mr. 
Holt.     Good-day." 

Holt  returned  to  the  tavern,  and,  having  entered  the 
room  where  Bond  sat  reading  a  law  book,  said  : 

"  Such  coolness  is  commendable,  Bond.  I  hope  I 
shall  not  disturb  it  by  repeating  that  I  am  confident  of 
our  not  being  able  to  force  your  man  to  a  challenge." 

"  Be  it  so ;  I  only  wanted,  if  I  could,  to  get  him 
away  from  pistols,  at  which  I've  been  told  that  he  is 
quite  expert.  I'm  not  much  in  that  way ;  but  if  I 
could  have  a  rifle,  I  think  I  would  make  the  gentleman 


THE  CORRESPOXDENTE  OF  BOND  AND  GUTHRIE.   269 

limp  for  the  balance  of  his  life;  for  I  should  only  aim 
at  his  legs.  lie  will  be  so  exasperated  that  I  suppose 
he  will  be  for  doing  his  work  effectually.  Still,  what  I 
can  do  at  all  with  a  pistol  I  can  do  quickly,  if  not  with 
accuracy  to  boast  of,  and  I'll  try  to  if  I  can't  at  least 
give  him  a  lame  leg  before  he  fires." 

That  night  Holt  accompanied  Bond  to  the  "Wen- 
dells ;  Miss  Jewell  came  down  looking  almost  as  radiant 
as  ever  in  color  and  cheer. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Holt,  I  never  expected  to  see  you 
here!  What  could  have  brought  you  so  far  away  from 
Augusta,  your  beloved  ?  It  must  have  been  some  ex- 
ceedingly important  law  business.  I*  didn't  know  before 
that  you  practiced  in  the  counties." 

"  Most  persons,  Miss  Jewell,  pretend  not  to  know 
that  I  practice  even  in  Augusta.  Yet  I  must  do  myself 
the  justice  to  say  that  now  and  then  I  receive  for  col- 
lection a  promissory  note  on  which  the  holder  knows 
that  the  maker  must  confess  judgment.  My  practice 
outside,  except  in  cases  of  importance,  has  not  been  ex- 
tensive. Hearing  that  our  common  friend  Bond — you 
will  mark  the  use  of  the  word  '  common '  instead  of 
'mutual' — yes,  Miss  Jewell,  to  go  back  behind  that  ex- 
planatory clause,  hearing  that  Bond,  common  as  he  is 
and  mutual,  after  one  visit  to  this  town,  avowedly  to 
attend  court,  but,  as  is  well  known,  for  another  pur- 
pose, had  got  into  a  fat  case,  when  he  told  me  that 
he  was  coining  to  look  after  it,  I  fished  up  a  little  busi- 
ness myself,  and  I  said  to  him :  '  Bond,'  said  I,  as  dis- 
tinctly and  fairly  as  it  is  in  me  to  speak,  I  said,  '  Bond,  if 
you  think  I  won't  be  too  much  of  a  burden,  a  bore,  or 
a  hindrance,  I  will  go  with  you.'     He   said   nothing, 


270  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

and  I  acted  upon  liis  silence.  You  don't  know  it,  Miss 
Jewell,  and  with  all  my  adjurations,  prayers,  and  tears 
I  could  never  get  you  to  know  it,  and  you  never  did 
know  it,  and  perhaps  you  will  never  care  about  knowing 
it,  but  I  was  always  as  devoted  to  you  as  Bond,  every 
bit  and  grain.     Now  !  " 

"I  see,  Mr.  Bond,"  she  said,  "  that  he's  the  same  de- 
ceiver." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Jewell,  I  am  forced  to  admit.  Holt  is 
a  young  man  who,  but  for  some  mistakes,  perhaps,  in 
his  early  education,  I  rather  think  would  mean  well. 
In  his  speeches  to  ladies,  like  that  he  has  just  now  made 
to  you,  I  have  sometimes  believed  that  I  noticed  that, 
for  the  time  being,  he  felt  some  inspiration  of  eloquence, 
and,  indeed,  so  far  as  you  are  concerned,  I  have  often 
heard  him  speak  in  terms  of  high,  unmixed  praise." 

"  My !  praise,  honest  praise  from  such  a  source  is 
something  to  be  proud  of  !  " 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear  Miss  Jewell,  not  at  all,"  Holt 
said.  "  Miss  Jewell,  you  see  that  man  there  before  you, 
so  cool,  so  calm,  so  self-possessed  in  the  midst  of  suc- 
cesses that  he  knows  he  never  merited  as  I  would  have 
done  had  Fortune  vouchsafed  for  one  time  to  change 
the  rags  with  which  she  has  always  shown  herself  to 
me,  so  fortified  in  his  sense  of  superiority  to  all  man- 
kind, not  excepting — and  particularly  and  offensively — 
not  excepting  me  ?  "Well,  madam,  if  you  will  pardon 
the  address  which  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion  seems 
to  me  to  warrant  and  anticipate,  I  assure  you  that  I 
have  often  argued  with  that  man  and  tried  my  level 
best  to  convince  him  that  you  were  the  finest  woman 
that  he  and  I  ever  saw  or  that  we  might  ever  hope  to 


THE  CORRESPONDENCE  OF  BOND  AND  GUTHRIE.   271 

see  again.  In  time,  as  if  to  make  another  instance  of 
the  ingratitude  of  individuals  as  well  as  of  republics,  he 
turned  upon  me,  appropriated  all  my  arguments,  and 
you  now  behold  the  ruined,  desperate  person  he  has 
made  of  me,  madam  !  " 

With  such  badinage  he  occupied  most  of  the  time 
during  this  visit.  Before  taking  their  leave  they 
pleaded  that  stress  of  business  would  prevent  their 
making  another  call,  and  that,  if  they  could  not  get 
away  during  the  morrow,  they  must  do  so  early  on  the 
following  morning. 

After  Holt  had  left  Guthrie,  the  latter  immediately 
went  home,  and,  writing  a  note,  dispatched  it  by  Marcus 
to  his  friend  Charles  Leslie,  who  resided  in  South  Caro- 
lina. A  man  of  courage,  even  pugnacious,  he  felt  a 
sense  of  relief  at  the  prospect  of  settling  thus  with  an 
equal  adversary  a  matter  that  had  disturbed  him  con- 
siderably. Before  nightfall  on  the  next  day  his  friend 
arrived,  and,  after  a  brief  conference,  a  note  was  sent 
to  Bond  running  thus  : 

"  Clarke,  June  27,  1S2S. 
"To  Chi'istopher  Bond,  Esq.: 

"  Sir  :  The  real  or  pretended  ignorance  manifested  in 
your  note  of  yesterday  of  the  courtesy  usual  among  gen- 
tlemen shall  not  obtain  for  you  any  imagined  advantage 
that  you  seek.  I  decline  to  hold  with  you  further  dis- 
cussion upon  the  matter  of  your  complaint. 

"  This  will  be  handed  you  by  my  friend  Charles 
Leslie,  Esq.     Yours,  etc., 

"  Duncan  Guthrie." 

Early  the  next  morning  Bond  sent  a  peremptory 
challenge,  which  was  promptly  accepted,  and  a  meeting 


272  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

was  agreed  upon  to  take  place  on  the  morning  of  the 
fourth  day  afterward  on  the  Carolina  side  of  the  Savan- 
nah, near  a  place  known  as  Sister's  Ferry.  To  avert 
suspicion  from  the  public,  the  principals  with  their  sec- 
onds left  the  village,  Bond  and  Holt  at  once,  Guthrie 
and  his  friend  next  morning.  Guthrie  late  that  after- 
noon repaired  to  his  own  home,  where  he  spent  an  hour 
as  before.  Opening  the  piano,  he  struck  softly  some  of 
the  keys,  and  seemed  as  if  he  were  listening  to  sounds 
from  afar.  Letting  down  the  lid,  he  took  into  his 
hands,  one  by  one,  the  vases  that  stood  upon  the  center- 
table  of  the  parlor  and  the  bureau  in  their  bedroom. 
Taking  from  his  pocket  his  wife's  handkerchief  that 
lie  yet  carried,  he  moistened  it  from  one  of  the  phials. 
He  walked  through  the  flower  garden  several  times, 
lingering  before  shrubs  that  he  knew  to  be  her  favor- 
ites. He  felt  that  he  loved  her  more  and  that  she  was 
more  needful  to  him  than  he  had  ever  supposed.  He 
heartily  wished  that  she  could  see  him  as  he  was  and 
know  his  thoughts  of  her,  and  he  hoped  that  if  he 
should  survive  the  dangerous  combat  in  which  he  was 
about  to  engage  she  might  be  as  happy  in  the  posses- 
sion of  his  single  love  and  confidence  as  he  knew  she 
always  had  yearned  and  deserved  to  be. 

His  mother  had  been  put  by  Mr.  Torrance  into  a 
frame  so  comparatively  comfortable  that  she  was  little 
disturbed  by  his  announcement  that  he  must  go  to  Au- 
gusta ;  besides,  always  averse  to  having  her  own  affairs 
known  to  others,  she  did  not  inquire  as  to  the  business 
on  which  he  was  going.  During  the  evening  they  con- 
versed upon  indifferent  themes.  AVhen  near  bedtime 
she  said : 


THE  CORRESPONDENCE  OF  BOXD  AND  GUTHRIE.   273 

"  You  look  serious,  Duncan,  and  have  been  almost 
ever  since  Alice  has  been  away.  I  don't  see  why  you 
can't  be  contented  and  cheerful  for  a  while  with  me 
like  you  used  to  be." 

"  Why,  mother,  I  am  not  thinking  of  Alice  every 
time  you  see  me  looking  thoughtful.  I  do  miss  her, 
of  course,  but  my  thoughts  are  mainly  of  other  things." 

"  Well,  my  son,  the  only  way  I  know  in  order  to 
get  along  with  things  that  trouble  7ne  is  to  try  to  give 
up  to  what  I  can't  help  and  couldn't  have  prevented, 
and  to  light  and  keep  on  fighting  against  the  rest.  I've 
lived  a  lighting  life,  and  had  to  do  it  to  keep  myself 
from  being  put  under  people's  feet.  What  you  see  me 
now  and  what  I've  got  around  me  have  all  come  from 
fighting  If  you  once  begin  to  give  way  to  bad  feel- 
ings they'll  grow  and  grow  until  they'll  actually  become 
a  disease,  and  people  will  see  it  and  it  will  make  them 
run  over  you." 

"  Mother,"  he  answered,  but  not  with  apparent 
petulance,  "  when  have  I  ever  suffered  people  to  run 
over  me,  as  you  style  it  ?  I  think  I've  been  able,  in 
what  few  conflicts  I've  had  with  the  world  thus  far,  to 
take  care  of  myself,  and  I  trust  to  so  continue." 

"  Why,  my  dear  child,  I  didn't  mean  to  make  any 
insinuations  against  your  bravery.  I've  never  been 
afraid  that  anybody  that  has  my  blood  in  his  veins 
could  ever  be  lacking  in  that.  I  only  meant  to  convey 
m}7,  idea  that  resistance  is  the  surest  defense  to  put 
against  trouble — that  is,  those  that  are  brought  by  other 
people.  But  resistance  can  become  as  calm  as  it  is  reso- 
lute. I  learned  that  for  the  first  time  in  the  talk  I  had 
with   Seaborn   Torrance.     What  a   man  he  is !     I've 

18 


274  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

been  feeling  of  another  sort  ever  since  he  was  here. 
Well,  child,  as  you've  got  a  journey  before  you  to-mor- 
row, may  be  you  had  better  go  to  bed.  I  shall  not  sit 
up  much  longer." 

He  was  willing  to  be  thus  excused.  As  was  her  wont 
sometimes  when  there  was  moonlight,  she  took  a  walk 
under  the  trees.  When  she  had  re-entered  the  house 
and  her  maid  was  making  her  ready  for  bed,  she  said : 

"  Judy,  do  you  think  your  Marse  Duncan  cares  as 
much  for  me  as  he  did  before  he  was  married  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes'm,  mistess.  Marse  Duncan  love  you  same 
as  befo'.  Course  lie  love  Miss  Alice  too,  bein'  she  his 
wife.  He  bound  do  dat,  Marse  Duncan  is ;  but  he  ain' 
forgot  his  ma,  nor  he  ain'  guine  to  forgit  her,  nother." 

"  Don't  you  tell  anybody  I  asked  you  that  question, 
hear  ?     If  you  do,  it  won't  be  good  for  you." 

"  Law,  miss !  I  never  opens  my  mouf  'bout  what 
you  says  to  me  dat  way.  Ev'ybody  on  dis  place  know 
dat  about  me." 

"  I  don't,  for  one  ;  but  you  be  careful.  I  tell  you  that 
for  your  own  good." 


CHAPTER   XXX. 


SISTER  S    FERRY. 


We  have  heard  it  said  that  there  is  greater  courage 
in  declining  than  in  accepting  a  challenge  to  fight  a  duel. 
This  is  one  of  those  sayings  which,  out  of  respect  for 
religious  sentiment,  goes  without  contradiction.  At 
best,   however,   that   seems   to   be  a  negative  courage 


SISTER'S  FERRY.  275 

which  declines  to  give  special  satisfaction  in  cases  where- 
in any  other  sort  seems  inadequate,  except  that  (ulti- 
mately the  very  highest,  of  course)  which  conies  from 
humble,  even  thankful  submission  to  injustice.  The 
law  provides  pecuniary  compensation  for  defamation 
and  kindred  wrongs  ;  but,  as  was  argued  by  Bond,  the 
more  cultured  and  sensitive  an  innocent  person  is,  the 
more  revolting  is  the  idea  of  such  compensation,  and 
the  suffering  would  only  be  intensified  by  public  judi- 
cial investigation.  Then,  to  kill  a  man  whose  injury  to 
another  has  been  most  atrocious,  without  giving  him 
notice  to  defend  himself,  the  law  calls  murder,  although 
juries,  who  in  the  trial  of  such  cases  are  made  judges 
of  the  law  as  well  as  of  facts,  generally,  if  not  always, 
acquit.  Yet  no  really  brave  man,  except  when  im- 
pelled by  sudden  uncontrollable  passion,  will  shoot  or 
stab  deliberately,  whatever  be  the  injury  received. 
Therefore,  it  may  happen  that  one  who  suffers  most  pain 
from  injury  will  feel  that  he  most  sorely  needs  satis- 
faction, and  not  of  that  highest  sort  with  which  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  he  ought  to  strive  to  be  content. 
It  seems  a  doubtful  courage,  however,  that  refuses  to 
give  satisfaction  which  endangers  life  when  it  is  the 
only  one  that  the  injured  cares  to  accept  for  a  wrong 
done  that  he  feels  to  be  worthy  of  death.  These  words 
are  not  meant  as  an  argument  in  favor  of  dueling, 
which  is  justly  named  barbaric  and  is  plainly  forbidden 
under  the  divine  law,  but  merely  as  remarks  on  what  is 
said  so  often  about  that  higher  courage  which  consi>ts 
in  keeping  away,  after  wrong  done,  from  the  muzzle  of 
a  pistol  or  the  point  of  a  rapier.  I  am  considering  the 
mere  question  of  courage — a  courage  that  in  the  times 


276  WIDOW   GUTHRIE. 

in  which  the  things  in  this  story  took  place,  in  the 
absence  of  more  condign  penalties  imposed  by  the  laws, 
municipal  and  social,  kept  shut  the  mouth  of  many  a 
defamer  and  many  a  defamer's  wife,  and  let  the  inno- 
cent live  in  peace  and  security.  To  those  submissive 
under  persecution  our  Lord  promised  extraordinary  be- 
atitude. Happy,  happiest  of  all  are  they  who,  having 
opportunities  thereto^ become  entitled  to  receive  it; 
but  we  may  depend  upon  it  there  are  not  many  occa- 
sions wherein  clearer  instances  of  physical  courage  are 
manifested  than  upon  a  field  where  each  expects  either 
his  adversary  or  himself  to  fall. 

Both  parties  succeeded  in  avoiding  suspicion.  A 
case  of  critical  sickness  hindered  Dr.  Poythress  from 
accompanying  the  party,  and  Guthrie  was  content  with 
the  attendance  of  an  Augusta  physician,  Dr.  Holly ;  Dr. 
Anton  attended  Bond.  The  parties  spent  the  night 
previous  at  farmers'  houses  not  far  from  the  ferry. 
The  combatants,  covered  with  loose  flowing  gowns  ex- 
tending to  their  feet,  bowed  respectfully  to  each  other, 
while  the  rest  exchanged  greetings  all  around.  Ten 
paces  were  measured  ;  Guthrie's  second  won  the  word. 
At  its  call,  Bond  fired,  instantly  followed  by  his  adver- 
sary. Both  stood  entirely  still,  something  of  a  flush 
coming  over  Guthrie's  cheek. 

"  Aren't  you  struck,  Guthrie  ? "  asked  Leslie,  in  a 
low  voice,  as  he  went  to  receive  his  pistol. 

"  Hush  !  I  felt  my  pants  tear  a  little.  I  miscalcu- 
lated where  he  stood  under  his  gown,  and  aimed  too  far 
front.     I'll  avoid  that  the  next  shot." 

"  You  look  sound,  Bond,"  whispered  Holt,  "  but  I 
see  he  made  a  hole  in  your  gown." 


"  Stop  !  "  cried  Dr.  Anton,  "  Mr.  Bond  has  been  wounded." 


SISTER'S   FERRY.  277 

"  Quick  !  reload  quick,  Holt !  " 

But  when  the  pistol  was  handed  to  him  again  and 
he  reached  forth  to  take  it,  his  hand  trembled. 

"  Stop !  "  cried  Dr.  Anton,  advancing  hurriedly, 
"  Mr.  Bond  has  been  wounded." 

Bond  grew  pale  and  would  have  fallen.  Being 
laid  upon  the  ground,  his  gown  and  waistcoat  were 
opened,  when  it  was  ascertained  that  one  of  his  ribs 
had  been  broken.  The  bullet  had  glanced,  and,  after 
perforating  the  fleshy  part  of  the  breast,  passed  on.  He 
was  bleeding  freely ;  but  after  the  fainting  spell  was 
over,  smiling,  he  said  : 

"  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  let  Mr.  Guthrie  go  this  time, 
but  I'm  not  quite  through  with  him." 

All  except  Guthrie  expressed  gratification  that  the 
wound  was  not  more  serious.  He  had  aimed  to  kill, 
and  he  did  not  try  to  hide  his  disappointment.  With 
his  second  he  re-entered  his  carriage  and  drove  away. 
When  well  off  the  ground,  he  said  : 

"  The  fellow  drew  a  little  blood  from  me." 

"  What ! " 

"  Oh,  a  spoonful.  I  wouldn't  have  known  it  but  for 
the  warmth."  Unbuttoning  his  trousers,  his  under- 
garments were  found  to  be  stained  considerably. 

"  I  didn't  dream  that  he  was  so  quick  on  the  trig- 
ger;  his  bullet  stung  like  fire  as  it  grazed  my  thigh, 
and  the  smart  may  have  made  mine  vary  an  inch  or  so 
from  where  I  aimed." 

"You  ought  to  be  scolded  well,  Guthrie,  for  not  let- 
ting me  know  this ;  I  could  have  got  a  liniment  from 
Holly.  Let  me  see  what  it  is.  Xot  much,  but  I  should 
have  known  it  sooner." 


278  WIDOW   GUTHRIE. 

"  I  didn't  want  Bond  to  know  that  he  had  drawn  a 
drop  of  my  blood.  We  can  get  a  piece  of  cloth  at  the 
next  house,  and  at  the  first  stream  we  get  to,  I'll  change 
my  clothes  and  let  you  bandage  it,  if  you  think  it's  worth 
while." 

"  It's  evident,  I  think,  Guthrie,  that  Bond  didn't 
aim  to  kill  you;  for  I've  been  told  that  he's  a  fine 
shot." 

"  Possibly,  he  didn't ;  but  I  thank  him  not.  I'd 
rather  be  killed  than  lamed." 

It  was  thought  best  for  Bond  to  lie  at  the  farmer's 
house  for  a  day,  after  which,  Mr.  Dunbar  came  and  had 
him  removed  to  his  own. 

Such  news  alwa}Ts  is  borne  rapidly,  and  at  first  is 
almost  always  inaccurate.  A  report  reached  Clarke  just 
before  noon  the  next  day  that  Bond  had  been  mortally 
wounded.  The  arrival  of  Guthrie  and  Leslie  not  long 
afterward  corrected  it. 

The  effect  of  the  sudden  announcement  and  its  quick 
denial  affected  Miss  Jewell,  as  was  to  be  expected.  As 
soon  as  she  recovered  from  the  shock  she  sent  a  servant 
to  Tolly  with  a  note,  begging  him  to  come  to  her  at 
once.     He  was  already  on  his  way  there. 

"  O  Mr.  Tolly,  is  it  true — I  think  I  can  see  in  your 
face  that  it  is — that  Mr.  Bond  is  not  fatally  hurt  ? " 

"  Not  fatally,  Miss  Jewell,  nor  very  dangerously,  I 
am  delighted  to  say.  Mr.  Leslie,  who  was  Mr.  Guthrie's 
friend,  is  at  the  tavern,  and  says  that  one  of  Bond's  ribs 
was  shattered,  but  that  good  medical  attention  and  good 
nursing  will  set  him  up  in  a  little  while." 

"  Thank  God  !  Blessed  be  his  holy  name  !  O  Mr. 
Tolly !     I  didn't  dream  that  that  was  what  Mr.  Bond 


SISTER'S  FERRY.  279 

came  here  for  the  last  time,  bringing  Julius  Holt  with 
him,  and  I  didn't  suspect  that  he  knew  of  any  reason 
why  he  should  light  with  Mr.  Guthrie  ;  but  I've  now  no 
doubt  that  Mr.  Dunbar  informed  him  of  what  I  had  re- 
quested sister  to  keep  secret.  If  I  had  foreseen  any 
such  thing,  I  would  have  run  away  from  this  town,  and 
never  stopped  till  I  got  to  Boston.  I  don't  see  how 
Mr.  Bond  can  ever  look  me  in  the  face  again,  after — 
after—" 

"  After  having  vindicated  your  good  name  against 
the  insult  and  aspersion  of  a  bad  man.  That  is  the 
proper  ending  to  your  sentence,  Miss  Jewell." 

Looking  at  him  thankfully,  she  laid  one  hand  upon 
his  lips,  and  said  : 

"  There,  kiss,  if  you  don't  object." 

"  Oh,  me  !  "  he  said,  when  the  hand  was  withdrawn, 
'*  with  such  pay,  a  kiss  on  the  hand  for  a  rib,  but  for  my 
need  of  Bond's  help,  I'd  wish  that  live  had  been  broken 
instead  of  one." 

"  That  speech  was  a  right  good  one,  too,"  she  re- 
plied, becoming  momentarily  hilarious,  in  the  revulsion 
of  her  feelings.  "  If  you  had  been  talking  all  this  time 
to  Charlotte  on  that  key — but  you  are  all  right  there,  I 
think,  Cousin  Tom.  Now,  do  you  want  to  know  for 
what  specially  I  sent  for  you  ?  " 

"  No,  because  I  know  already." 

"  But  you  don't.  It  was  to  say  that  somebody  has 
got  to  take  me  to  Augusta  right  away." 

"  That,  my  dear  cousin,  my  mind  had  forecast. 
Junkin  has  my  orders  to  have  ready  at  my  call  a  car- 
riage, horses,  and  driver  for  a  three-days'  journey." 

"  Tom  Tolly  !  "  her  outpouring  joy  giving  full  ex- 


280  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

pression  to  lier  wonderful  beauty.  "  You  are  a  blessed 
cousin,  the  best  that  any  poor  girl  ever  had,  even  by 
blood !  Now,  let  me  tell  you.  I  want  that  carriage 
and  those  horses  and  that  driver,  and,  last  in  mention 
but  first  in  importance,  this  cousin  to  be  at  that  gate 
yonder  there  not  outside  of  two  hours  from  this  time, 
and  as  much  within  as  may  consist  with  my  said  cousin's 
arrangings  for  a  temporary  absence  from  his  important 
engrossments." 

"  I  am  to  understand,  I  suppose,  by  this  haste  that 
your  purpose  is  to  assist  the  surgical  treatment  of  Mr. 
Bond  by  the  substitution  of  another  and  an  invulner- 
able rib." 

With  a  playful  push  she  expedited  his  departure, 
and  about  the  time  set  they  were  on  their  journey, 
which  was  to  require  a  day  and  a  half.  Miss  Jewell 
was  delighted  to  find  how  well  her  escort,  by  varied, 
cheerful,  often  bantering  chat,  could  beguile  her  anxi- 
ety. When  it  was  near  sunset  and  they  were  approach- 
ing Wrightsborough,  a  village  in  the  adjoining  county, 
he  said : 

"  My  fair  cousin,  if  it  were  not  for  prudential  sug- 
gestions, wholly  concerning  yourself,  I  would  get  a 
relay  of  beasts  if  they  can  be  had  in  the  village  lying  so 
still  and  unexpectant  of  us  two  on  yonder  rising  ground, 
and  rush  forward  amid  the  darkness  to  the  place  where 
our  knight  lies  temporarily  exhausted  by  the  strife  of 
battle.  But  I  am  thinking  that  one  of  us,  not  at  all 
alluding  to  myself,  may  grow  fatigued  after  some  longer 
duration  of  travel,  and  as  the  most  interesting  phase  of 
the  case  must  be  delayed  till  you  get  there,  and  it  is  de- 
sirable for  you,  when  there  arrived,  to  be  as  fresh  as 


SISTER'S  FERRY.  281 

possible,  in  view  of  the  important  scientific  operations 
intended  for  his  relief,  I  rather  think  that  we  should 
take  what  rest  may  be  got  in  the  unpretentious  hostlery, 
of  which  I  have  had  from  several  travelers  a  reasonably 
good  account ;  but,  as  it  is  yours  to  speak  and  comT 
maud,  and  mine  to  listen  and  obey,  if  you  say  go,  why 
we — we  just  go  on,  that's  all." 

"  My  brave,  generous  defender  and  guide,  words 
could  be  only  fain  to  express  my  gratitude  for  your 
readiness  to  undertake  the  impossible.  For  both  sakes 
we  will  tarry  the  night  at  this  inn.  I  must  have  regard 
not  alone  for  your  gallant  unselfishness,  but  for  your 
somnolence,  whose  advance  is  already  beginning  to  ap- 
pear." 

They  halted  at  the  tavern,  where  cleanness,  good 
cooking,  obligingness,  and  small  charge  more  than 
made  amends  for  lack  of  fineness  and  variety.  Almost 
immediately  after  supper,  Miss  Jewell  asked  to  be 
shown  to  her  chamber.  Her  escort  must  have  his  cigar. 
As  he  sat  in  a  split-bottom  chair  on  the  unpaved  side- 
walk, several  of  the  villagers,  some  with  cigars,  most 
with  pipes,  strolled  to  the  tavern  door,  and  as  the  chat 
between  the  landlord  and  guests  warmed,  moved,  but 
not  disrespectfully,  nearer. 

"  Driver  tell  me  you  from  Clarke,  sir." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you're  the  lady's  cousin,  so  she  told  my  wife, 
and  I  don't  remember  as  I  ever  went  anywheres  to 
find  a  handsomer,  fine-lookiner,  nice-behaveder  young 
woman ;  she  say  you  takin'  her  to  Agusty  to  see  her 
sister." 

"  Yes.     This  is  a  good  cigar,  and  after  a  good  sup- 


282  WIDOW   GUTHRIE. 

per,  I  believe  I'll  try  a  couple  of  tliem — cigars,  I  mean, 
and  then,  landlord,  if  my  room  is  ready,  I'll  go  to  bed." 

"  Certainly,  sir,  whenever  you  say  so.  Glad  you 
like.  Fact  of  the  business,"  he  continued,  with  com- 
passionate backward  glance  to  previous  administrations, 
"  they  was  complainin's  a'most  a  constant  all  the  time 
about  the  way  this  tavern  was  kept,  and  it  come  to 
that,  I  told  my  wife — I  got  her  over  thar  in  your 
county — I  told  her  that  me  and  her,  to  my  opinion,  we 
owed  it,  not  only  to  the  bo'ders,  but  to  the  transient 
people,  to  take  holt  of  things  on  these  premerses,  and 
show  the  civilized  world  that  Wrightsborough,  when 
you  come  to  know  her,  they  was  stuff  in  her  for  a  re- 
spectable tavern,  if  nothin'  else.  My  wife,  she  see  the 
sitooation,  and  she  j'ined  in  with  me,  and  she  rolled  up 
her  sleeves,  and  the  consequence  is  as  people  sees.  But, 
Mr.  Tolly — the  lady  said  that  were  your  name — " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  yes,  sir,  and  my  father's  before  me." 

"  That's  what  people  might  suppose — onlest  there 
was  somethin'  wrong  somewhere." 

Tolly  laughed  heartily  at  this  merited  rebuke  for 
the  remark  caused  by  his  needless  wish,  for  Miss 
Jewell's  sake,  to  avoid  the  man's  questionings.  The 
latter  saw  the  advantage  he  had  gained,  and  said  : 

"  I  thought  I'd  ask  you  before  you  went,  if  it  ain't 
a  onfa'r  question,  if  you  heerd  of  the  juel  that  was  fit 
day  fo'  yisterday  mornin'  about  a  female  person  betwix' 
two  lawyers.  I  been  thinking  you  must  have  heerd 
about  it,  as  one  of  'em,  lawyer  Guthrie,  was  from 
Clarke." 

"  Yes,  I  had  heard  of  it.  Have  you  any  recent 
news  as  to  how  the  other  party  is  getting  on  ? " 


SISTER'S  FERRY.  283 

"  Oh,  they  say  he's  a-gittin'  on  lively,  but  the  first 
news  come  that  he  was  slew.  Everybody  here  was 
glad  when  that  was  contradicted.  They  are  all  on  his 
side,  every  one  of  'em,  women  worse  than  men,  because 
the  tale  is  that  he  was  a-fightin'  for  a  poor  young 
schoolmistess  that  didn'  have  nobody  else  to  take  up 
for  her,  bein'  so  fur  away  from  her  people.  Yes,  sir, 
that's  the  sentiment  o'  these  people  in  this  here  town, 
old  and  young,  male  and  female,  special  female.  They 
say  they  don't  see  how  him  come  to  be  hit  and  the 
t'other  skipped." 

At  that  moment  a  gentleman,  while  passing,  paused, 
looked  through  the  dusk  a  moment,  then,  seizing  the 
guest's  hand,  cried  : 

"  Why,  Tolly,  you  here  ?  Bless  me,  but  you're 
about  the  last  man  I  expected  to  see." 

It  was  Charles  Hawley,  a  young  lawyer,  who  had 
come  from  the  county-seat  for  a  visit  to  his  parents, 
who  dwelt  in  this  village. 

These  had  for  an  hour  or  more  a  conversation  about 
the  duel  and  other  things,  the  landlord  and  some  of  the 
villagers  taking  part.  The  next  morning,  when  Miss 
Jewell  had  risen  from  breakfast,  the  landlady,  who  had 
put  on  some  of  her  best  things,  rose  and,  approaching 
her  with  a  small  bundle  of  roses,  said  : 

"  Lady,  me  and  mine  don't  set  up  for  much  ;  but  I 
want  you  to  take  these  roses  and  give  'em  to  the  young 
man  you're  going  to — " 

"  I  thank  you,  madam,"  and  she  turned  a  reproach- 
ful glance  of  inquiry  at  Tolly.  He  hurried  away. 
"When  she  came  forth  to  enter  the  carriage  a  scene  Mas 
there  which  she  never  was  to  forget.     A  dozen  or  so 


284  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

girls,  from  fifteen  down  to  six,  clad  in  their  very  Lest, 
simple,  clean,  bashful,  stepped  forward,  beginning  with 
the  oldest,  and,  without  words,  presented  her,  every  one, 
with  flowers. 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  at  Tolly 
with  amazement. 

"  Lady,  my  most  fair  and  most  gracious  relative," 
answered  Tolly  with  high  courtesy,  "  it  means  that 
these  young  ladies,  having  heard  that  two  warriors  have 
lately  clashed  arms  on  account  of  your  ladyship,  wished 
thus  to  signalize  that  they  were  unanimously  on  the  side 
of  him  who  fought  and  suffered  in  your  cause ;  and 
having  heard,  further,  that  if  not  actually  on  your  way 
to  him,  at  least  you  might  be  in  his  presence  before 
these  sweet  but  frail  memorials  shall  have  withered, 
they  modestly  but  earnestly  desire  that  you  will  present 
them  to  him  in  testimony  of  their  exalted  admiration 
and  their  profound  gratitude  for  his  gallantry  in  your 
behalf.  This  manifestation,  I  beg  to  assure  you,  though 
deemed  by  myself  eminently  becoming,  was,  until  a  few 
moments  ago,  as  unexpected  to  me  as  to  yourself." 

Her  hand  had  already  lifted  her  gown,  preparing  to 
step  into  the  carriage.     She  let  it  go  and  said  : 

"  Well,  Mr.  Tolly,  you  may  hide  your  emotion  be- 
neath those  courtly  words,  but  my  tears  must  flow,  be- 
cause— because  my  heart  has  never  been  so  full !  " 

She  stood  and,  putting  her  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes,  wept  freely  for  several  moments.  Then  she  called 
to  her  the  children,  one  by  one ,  and  embraced  and 
kissed  them.  When  the  last  came,  bare-headed  and 
without  shoes,  lifting  her  in  her  arms,  she  took  from 
her  bosom  a  pretty  phial  of  essence,  and  said : 


SISTER'S   FERRY.  285 

"  Take  this,  darling.  It  is  sweet  and  precious,  but 
not  nearly  as  much  so  as  you  and  your  dear  companions. 
I  can  never  forget  you.  Now  one  more  kiss  from 
every  one,  and  may  the  blessing  of  God  be  and  abide 
with  you  always  ! "  The*n,  entering  the  carriage,  fol- 
lowed by  Tolly,  they  continued  their  journey. 

Near  by  was  standing  a  tall,  red-haired,  loosely-con- 
structed boy,  having  an  uncertain  grasp  upon  the  stem 
of  a  huge  sunflower.  He  stared  at  Miss  Jewell  during 
the  whole  scene  and  at  the  carriage  while  it  was  rolling 
away. 

"  Why  didn't  you  give  the  lady  your  sunflower, 
Andy  ?  "  asked  one  of  the  gentlemen. 

"  Well,  now,  Mr.  Avery,  you  see,  I  forgot  it  tell  it 
was  too  late.  When  she  hilt  up  her  frock  to  git  in  the 
carriage  my  eye  got  stuck  on  her  foot,  and  it  look  so 
temptin',  and  then  that  lawyer  clinched  the  nail  on  me 
with  his  speeches  so  I  never  understood  nare  word  he 
said  ;  and  time  I  could  git  my  idees  back,  she  were  in 
her  carriage  and  gone.  Is  that  the  way  they  pleads  in 
court,  them  lawyers,  Mr.  Avery  ? " 

"  Something  like  that,  Andy,  when  they've  got 
nothing  to  say.  You  see  he  was  speaking  for  the  girls, 
and  he  had  to  put  up  his  best." 

"  Well,  he  done  it." 

When  the  travelers  were  out  of  town,  Miss  Jewell, 
drying  her  eyes,  looked  at  her  companion,  and  said : 

"  O  Mr.  Tolly,  Mr.  Tolly  !  Such  an  ovation  no  prin- 
cess ever  had!  No  Roman  consul  triumphing  with 
chariot  and  white  horses  ever  felt  happier  than  I  did  at 
the  manifestations  of  those  children !  '  Happy,'  as  the 
Psalmist  says,  '  is  that  people  that  is  in  such  a  case  ; 


286  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

yea,  happy  is  that  people !  '  "  Then,  almost  shouting 
with  laughter,  she  said :  "  And  oh,  that  speech !  My 
dear  cousin,  your  greatness,  your  varied  greatness, 
grows  upon  me  every  day  and  every  hour !  " 

She  was  indeed  very,  very*  happy. 

They  reached  the  Sand  Hills  by  night-fall.  Learn- 
ing that  Bond  was  in  the  house,  without  taking  off  her 
bonnet  she  went  up-stairs  and  knocked  gently  at  his 
door. 

"  Come  in,"  he  answered  from  within.  She  en- 
tered and  stood  looking  upon  his  face  as  he  lay  upon 
a  couch. 

"  Why,  Sarah  Jewell !     That  you  ? " 

She  went  to  his  side,  and  kneeling,  said : 

"  Yes ;  it  is  I." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE    .RETURN    OF    GUTHRIE. 

The  cry  uttered  by  Miss  Jewell  at  the  first  report 
from  Sister's  Ferry  served  to  make  it  known  to  Mrs. 
Guthrie.  She  was  walking  beneath  the  trees  in  her 
front  yard  in  meditative  mood,  when,  startled,  she 
called  to  her  maid  : 

"  Judy,  did  you  hear  that  noise  over  at  Mr.  "Wen- 
dell's ? " 

"  Yes'm,  mistess.  Sound  to  me  like  somebody 
hurted  over  dare." 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Wendell  came  out  through 
his  gate  and  commenced  walking  rapidly  toward   the 


THE   RETURN  OF  GUTHRIE.  287 

heart  of  the  village.     Mrs.  Guthrie  said  to  her  serv- 
ant: 

"  You  go  around  to  the  kitchen  and  find  out  what's 
the  matter.  Don't  you  dare  to  tell  anybody  that  I  sent 
you.  You're  friendly  with  those  negroes  over  there, 
aren't  you  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes'm.  I  friendly  with  'em,  dee  ain'  got  noth- 
in'  gin  me,  dem  folks  ain'." 

"  I  thought  so  ;  all  niggers  are  friendly  with  one  an- 
other when  it  comes  to  finding  out  all  about  white  folks' 
business ;  but  you  better  not  even  hint  about  me  want- 
ing to  bother  myself  with  anything  that  concerns  them. 
Go  along,  and  be  quick  about  it,  and  don't  you  stop  to 
go  to  palavering  with  those  people ;  but  find  out  what's 
the  trouble  and  come  back  straight  to  me." 

Judy  walked  rapidly  to  the  gate,  and  as  rapidly  along 
the  street  leading  out  of  town  until  she  had  passed  be- 
yond view  from  the  Wendell  mansion.  Then  crossing, 
she  climbed  the  fence,  and  shied  along  that  of  the  yard. 
Returning  in  a  few  minutes  her  mistress  said : 

"  You've  been  gone  twice  as  long  as  there  was  any 
need  for,  seems  to  me.  I  could  have  done  it  myself  in 
less  time.     What's  to  do  over  there  ? " 

"  O  miss,  bad   news ;    man  come  dar  en  tole  Miss 
"Wendell    dat  Marse  Duncan  have  fit  a  jule  wid  dat 
young  man  what  been  payin'  'tention  to  Miss  Jule  en 
Agusty,  en  kilt  him." 
"  "  Who  killed  who  ? " 

"  Marse  Duncan  kilt  dat  ter  man." 

"  The  Lord  help  my  soul !  Did  the  man  say  that 
your  Marse  Duncan  got  hurt  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am,  de  word  wus  Marse  Duncan  kilt  dat 


288  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

ter  man,  en  den  got  in  his  cayidge  en  come  away  from 
dar.  It  wer'  Miss  Jule  dat  done  de  hollerin',  for  'cause 
dee  said  de  man  en  her  was  promussed  to  git  married, 
en  now  she  dis'p'inted  in  her  min'  bout  it.  I  sorry 
for  lier,  dat  I  is,  but  I  thankful  'twarn't  Marse  Dun- 
can." 

"  Did  you  see  Miss  Jewell,  or  hear  her  ? " 

"  ISTo'm.  Dee  say  she  hollered  des  one  lone  time, 
en  den  she  run  up-sta'rs,  en  Miss  Wend'le  en  Miss  An- 
na dee  went  long  atter  her  en  de  swaged  her  down. 
Seem  to  me  I  mout  a  heerd  some  kind  o'  moanin'  up- 
sta'rs  dar,  but  I  didn't  have  no  time,  'cause  I  run  to  tell 
you  Marse  Duncan  safe." 

"Oh,  my  Lord!" 

Several  times  she  uttered  these  words  as  she  walked 
toward  the  house. 

"  Judy,"  she  said,  suddenly  turning  to  her,  "  put  on 
a  better  frock,  quick  as  you  can,  and  go  down  town, 
and  see  what  you  can  gather  up.  Ask  Mr.  Junkin,  the 
tavern-keeper.  He'll  be  as  apt  to  know  as  much  about 
it  as  anybody  else.  Get  along  with  you,  and  don't  be  so 
poke  easy." 

In  a  space  that  to  any  one  else  than  her  mistress 
would  have  seemed  marvelously  brief  Judy  reappeared 
in  satisfactory  condition,  and  she  was  about  to  start 
with  other  orders,  when  her  mistress  said : 

"  Stop.  Isn't  that  your  Marse  Duncan's  carriage  I 
see  rising  the  hill  ? " 

"  Yes'm,"  answered  the  girl,  casting  a  quick  glance 
down  the  street,  "  dat's  Marse  Duncan's  cayidge,  sho' ; 
en  de  way  Markis  playin'  wid  his  whip,  I  jes  know  he 
fetchin'  good  news ! " 


THE  RETURN  OP  GUTHRIE.  289 

"With  open  arms  she  met  her  son  at  the  gate,  and 
was  greatly  relieved  for  the  sake  of  both  to  hear  that  he 
had  not  killed  his  adversary. 

"  It  would  have  been  always  on  your  mind,  Duncan, 
and  mine,  too.  And  then  somehow  it  went  to  my  heart 
when  I  heard  that  young  woman  scream  when  the  re- 
port first  got  to  Mr.  Wendell's  half  an  hour  ago, 
although  I  didn't  know  what  was  the  matter  till  Judy 
ran  over  there  and  found  out.  God  knows  I'm  thank- 
ful you  didn't  kill  the  man !  The  poor  girl  is  so  far 
away  from  her  home,  you  know.  Come  in  and  sit 
down.  Have  anything  in  particular  ?  You  know 
there's  plenty  of  wine  and  spirits  in  the  house,  and  I'll 
order  dinner  at  once,  if  you  want  it." 

After  dinner  she  said  : 

"  Duncan,  you  never  did  anything  to  Miss  Jewell,  I 
hope,  to  have  to  fight  a  duel  about  her.  I  never 
dreamed  that  it  was  as  serious  as  all  that.  What  was 
the  matter  ?  My  Lord,  the  fusses  and  fights  that  can 
be  raised  among  men  about  women  !  " 

"  Mother,  you  know  how  some  people  have  been 
hinting  about  the  woman  ever  since  that  affair  in  the 
woods  behind  there  the  first  of  May.  I've  said  nothing 
about  what  occurred  there  to  anybody  except  Alice. 
We  both  concluded  to  drop  her.  I  suppose  she  felt 
insulted,  and  told  Bond,  and  he  sent  me  a  challenge. 
I  know  you  wouldn't  have  wished  me  to  decline 
that." 

"  No  ;  of  course  not ;  unless  it  could  have  been  set- 
tled honorably  without  going  out  and  shooting  at  each 
other.     I  don't  understand  it  at  all.     Did  you  say  any- 
thing to  insult  her  that  day  ? " 
19 


290  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

"  I'd  rather  not  talk  about  that,  mother.  I  didn't 
say  anything  beyond  what  I  felt  authorized  to  say. 
She  seemed  to  think  I  did.  A  man  can't  always  under- 
stand such  women." 

"  No,  indeed ;  nor  himself  either,  as  to  that.  I'm 
deeply  sorry.  Still,  I  wouldn't  have  had  you  back  out 
if  it  couldn't  be  settled.  It's  obliged  to  hurt  Alice.  A 
married  man  owes  to  his  wife  to  be  particular,  very 
particular,  indeed.  Your  father  used  to  say,  it  isn't 
every  game  that's  worth  the  candle.  He  said  he  saw 
that  somewhere,  I  forgot  where.  May  be  it  was  some 
French  book.  But,  my  Lord !  if  you  had  been  killed ! 
It  makes  me  shudder  to  think  about  it !  Or  that  other 
man  either,  enemy  to  me  as  he  is,  the  same  as  to  you ; 
and  God  knows  I  never  did  him  any  harm.  I'm  glad 
I  didn't  know  anything  about  it  before  it  was  all  over. 
I  think  I  should  have  gone  distracted.  I  feel  mightily 
shaken  up  anyhow,  sometimes,  thinking  about  all  I've 
been  through,  and  have  to  go  through  more  of  one 
kind  and  another.  Still  Seaborn  Torrance  told  me  I 
needn't  fret  myself  about  John  Stapleton.  Hadn't  I 
better  let  Judy  slip  around  there  and  tell  'em  the  man 
isn't  dead,  nor  isn't  going  to  die  ?  They  won't  know  I 
sent  her.  Somehow  I  hate  for  the  poor  thing  to  suffer 
when  it  can  be  helped.     You  Judy !  " 

"  It's  not  worth  while,  mother  ;  go  back,  Judy — un- 
less mother  wants  you  for  something  else.  Uncle  Den- 
nis stopped  the  carriage  as  I  came  away  from  Junkin's, 
where  I  left  Charles  Leslie ;  I  told  him  about  it,  and  I 
saw  him  go  to  Mr.  "Wendell,  who  was  standing  near. 
There  he  is  now,  entering  his  gate." 

The  words  of  his  mother  cut  him  deeply,  but  the 


THE  RETURN  OF  GUTHRIE.  291 

sword's  other  edge  wounded  jet  more  sorely  when  lie 
heard  a  shout  of  joy  answering  Mr.  Wendell's  an- 
nouncement of  his  news. 

"  There  it  is  !  "  said  Mrs.  Guthrie  heartily.  "  I  de- 
clare, it  does  my  heart  good  to  hear  her!  Yes,  the 
fusses  that  can  be  raised  about  women  !  Let  a  little  talk 
start  about  a  woman,  and  men  must  go  to  lighting  about 
it,  and  that,  instead  of  stopping  the  talk,  sets  every- 
body's mouth  going.  Women  ought  to  know  better 
how  to  take  care  of  themselves,  their  own  selves.  I 
never  wanted  anybody  to  help  me  take  care  of  myself. 
The  way  for  a  woman  to  do  when  people  are  talking 
about  her — I  mean  in  a  way  that's  scandalous,  for  no- 
body can  stop  all  sorts  of  fault-finding,  no  more  than 
they  can  stop  the  setting  of  the  sun  or  the  rising  of  the 
moon — but  when  its  scandalous  talk,  the  best  way  to  do 
is  to  hunt  up  the  one  that  started  and  demand  proof  or 
authority,  and  brand  every  soul  that  can't  or  won't  give 
it  as  a  liar.  I've  never  had  it  to  do,  but  that  would 
have  been  my  way  of  doing  it.  Instead  of  that,  women 
get  scared  and  go  to  crying,  and  then  men  get  sorry 
and  go  to  shooting.  But  that  poor  girl !  Somehow  I 
wish  that  Alice  hadn't  turned  her  back  on  her,  and  so 
started  people  to  wanting  to  know  the  reason  why,  al- 
though Charlotte  sticks  to  her  and  says  she's  as  good  as 
anybody.  If  so,  it's  a  great  pity.  It's  a  pity  as  it  is.  It 
sounds  badly  for  the  town  that  the  woman — whatever 
reason  she  might  have  had  for  a  defender — had  to  send 
all  the  way  to  Augusta  before  she  could  get  one.  But 
I'm  done  now.  I've  said  more  than  I  expected  to  Bay, 
and  more  than  I  ought,  may  be,  and  I'm  thankful  the 
thing  is    no  worse  than  it  is.     You  are  going  to  see 


292  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

Alice,  I  suppose.  She'll  want  to  hear  all  about  the  fra- 
cas, of  course." 

"  Xot  for  several  days,  mother.  She'll  hear  in  time 
all  she  needs  to  know.  I  shall  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  go 
up  there." 

k"  Well,  let's  go  in.  You  ought  to  have  something 
after  all  you've  been  through.     Come  along  in." 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

ANOTHER    HOSTILE   MEETING. 

Peterson  Braddy  was  as  well  pleased  at  the  insti- 
tution of  the  suit  in  behalf  of  his  friend  as  if  he  had 
been  expecting  the  whole  condemnation  money  for  him- 
self. He  was  a  person  who  never  had  tried  to  conceal 
his  sentiments  or  his  feelings,  and  who,  if  he  had  so 
tried,  would  never  have  succeeded.  In  public  he  spoke 
freely  about  what  he  called  the  big  case,  not  with  the 
remotest  notion  of  affecting  public  opinion  in  advance 
of  the  trial,  but  because  he  could  not  keep  silent. 
Honorable  to  every  degree,  he  would  have  spoken  the 
same  as  if  he  had  no  special  affection  for  Stapleton,  nor 
cause  of  personal  resentment  against  Duncan  Guthrie, 
although  he  doubtless  took  pleasure  in  the  prospect  of 
the  discomfiture  that  was  to  befall  one  whom  he  cor- 
dially disliked.  It  happened  several  times  upon  the 
street  that  when  some  one  had  expressed  a  doubt  as  to 
the  result  of  the  attempt  to  set  aside  a  will  that  had 


ANOTHER  HOSTILE  MEETING.  293 

been  acted  upon  and  acquiesced  in  so  long,  he  proposed 
to  wager  in  the  proportion  of  ten  to  one. 

"  Gent'men,  I'm  a  poor  man  ;  not  dead  poor,  I  don't 
mean,  not  poor  enough  to  be  not  able  to  raise  ten  dol- 
lars on  a  pinch,  and  I'm  willing  to  stake  it  along  with 
any  other  man's — one  dollar,  by  the  eternal — that  that 
will  is  going  to  git  kicked  out  of  court." 

People  knew  that  this  was  meant  merely  as  an  em- 
phatic way  of  expressing  confidence  in  his  own  judg- 
ment and  foresight,  without  any  notion  of  forestalling 
the  opinions  of  others.  Despising  him  as  Guthrie  did, 
yet  it  fretted  him  to  know  that  whenever  his  own  name 
was  mentioned  by  Braddy,  it  was  with  language  hostile 
and  meant  to  be  regarded  as  contemptuous.  Still  he  re- 
membered to  have  tried  to  put  upon  the  Braddy  family 
a  thing  that  was  hard  to  bear,  the  full  extent  of  which 
had  not  been  made  known  to  Peterson.  Therefore, 
when  not  too  inconvenient,  he  avoided  being  where  he 
was.  Latterly,  however,  he  had  been  angered  several 
times  when  some  of  Braddy's  talk  about  the  suit  had 
been  reported  to  him,  and  he  had  nearly  decided  to  take 
some  notice  of  it.  He  did  not  appear  on  the  street 
until  the  morning  after  his  arrival.  After  supper  his 
mother  made  no  allusion  to  the  duel.  She  seemed  to 
feel  that  he  had  already  suffered  enough  for  what  she 
believed  to  be  only  an  imprudence,  and,  therefore,  with  as 
much  cheer  as  she  could  ever  get  up,  she  had  talked  and 
listened  until  bedtime.  Never,  as  she  thought,  had  she 
felt  so  proud  as  the  next  morning  when  he  came  down 
dressed  with  unusual  care.  He  had  decided  to  do  no 
work  that  day,  but  go  among  the  villagers  to  get  the 
congratulations  of  his  friends  and  be  looked  at  by  all 


294  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

for  the  danger  he  had  passed  with  courage  and  safety. 
Braddy,  only  late  the  last  night  having  heard  of  the 
duel,  had  come  into  town  to  get  all  the  news  about  it. 
He  was  sitting  with  a  knot  of  men  in  a  chair  on  the 
sidewalk  before  the  door  of  one  of  the  stores.  Guthrie, 
in  the  act  of  passing,  paused  and  saluted  generally,  and 
when  he  noticed  Braddy,  took  a  step  onward  as  if  he 
thought  well  to  avoid  him  as  usual ;  but  noticing  that 
he  had  not  returned  his  salutation,  and  suspecting  that 
he  could  read  in  his  face  increased  hostility,  contempt, 
and  defiance,  he  waited  a  short  while,  as  if  reluctant  and 
undecided  what  to  do,  then  said  : 

"  Pete,  I  hear  that  you  have  been  proposing  to  bet 
some  of  your  superabundant  cash  on  the  results  of  cer- 
tain lawsuits  ? " 

"Lie,  sir,"  answered  Braddy,  leaning  his  chair 
against  the  wall,  smiling,  and  putting  into  his  looks  as 
much  as  possible  of  the  pleasant  contempt  that  he  felt. 
"  I've  been  offering  to  bet  on  but  one  single  one ;  and 
as  I  can't  git  my  bet  took,  I  don't  know  but  what  I'll 
make  another,  doublin'  the  odds." 

"  You  are  a  foul-mouthed  whelp  of  an  intermeddler," 
replied  Guthrie,  red  with  anger. 

"  That's  a  lie  of  your  own  make,  sir,"  retorted 
Braddy,  his  color  unchanged  and  his  eyes  opening 
wider.  "  It's  a  lie,  like  a  hundred  you've  told,  mostly 
about  women  ;  and  for  your  last  before  the  one  you've 
just  let  out  of  your  mouth  I  can't  understand  for  my 
life  how  the  bullet  that  man  shot  at  you  a'  Thursday 
didn't  go  plum'  through  your  mean  heart !  " 

Guthrie  stooped  and  slapped  him  upon  the  face, 
and  as  he  rose,  struck  him  with  his  cane  and  thrust  him 


ANOTHER   HOSTILE   MEETING.  295 

against  the  wall.  Braddy  drew  from  his  pocket  the 
small  pistol  he  sometimes  carried,  cocking  it  with  the 
hand  that  held  it.  Guthrie,  seizing  his  wrist,  pressed  it 
downward ;  the  weapon  was  discharged,  the  ball  enter- 
ing his  groin. 

Relaxing  his  hold,  he  said  : 

"  That  ends  it,  ends  it  all ;  gentlemen,  he  has  killed 
me ! " 

They  took  him  into  the  store  and  laid  him  upon  the 
counter,  letting  his  head  rest  upon  a  pile  of  blankets. 
Of  Dr.  Poythress,  who  ran  thither  from  his  office  on 
hearing  the  report,  he  asked  : 

"  How  long  have  I  got,  Poythress  ?  " 

"  A  very  short  while,  I  am  afraid,  Guthrie.  Gen- 
tlemen, please  send  for  his  mother  at  once." 

"  Xo,  no,  no  !  please,  don't !  O  Alice  !  Oh,  poor 
mother !  Tell  them  not  to  prosecute  Braddy.  He  was 
not  to  blame.  He  ought  to  have  done  it  before.  Beg 
Mr.  Bond—     O  my  God  ! " 

These  were  all  the  words  he  said. 

A  boy  ran  up  the  street  loudly  crying  the  tragedy. 
Mrs.  Guthrie  was  sitting  on  her  piazza.  In  her  hands  was 
some  delicate  needle-work,  for  she  was  never  willing  to  be 
idle.  She  had  looked  at  her  son  as  he  left  her  house  un- 
til he  had  disappeared  from  her  sight,  and  never  had  she 
felt  greater  admiration,  pride,  and  fondness  as  he  went 
forth  among  the  towns-people.  Hearing  the  tumult, 
she  dropped  her  work,  rose,  and  listened  eagerly.  Get- 
ting down  the  steps,  she  was  making  for  the  gate  when 
she  distinguished  the  words  of  the  cry  as  it  was  borne 
along.  Uttering  a  fearful  shriek,  she  rushed  forward. 
The  clergyman  whose  church  she  mostly  attended  met 


296  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

her  just  outside  the  gate,  and,  taking  her  arm,  besought 
her  to  let  him  carry  her  back. 

"  Loose  me,  sir !  "  she  screamed,  "  and  get  out  of 
my  way,  or  I'll  call  to  Moses  to  unchain  the  dog  and 
set  him  on  you  !  You  think  I  want  your  pitiful,  deceit- 
ful, peddling  prayers  f  I  don't  believe  it !  It  isn't  an 
hour  since  he  went  from  my  sight,  the  handsomest, 
bravest,  best  man  among  you  all !  It's  a  lie!  I  know 
it's  a  he !     It  shall  be  a  lie  !  " 

Breaking  away,  she  ran  on  with  all  her  might  for 
a  hundred  yards,  when  suddenly  she  fell,  striking  her 
forehead  against  the  root  of  a  tree  that  stood  upon  the 
sidewalk.  When  they  assisted  her  to  rise  she  made  no 
resistance  to  their  leading  her  back,  and,  speaking  not  a 
word,  looked  pleasantly  from  one  to  another  while  they 
undressed  and  put  her  to  bed.  The  body  of  her  son 
was  brought  to  the  house  ;  but  of  this  she  was  never 
made  aware,  and,  for  the  remaining  weeks  of  her  life, 
all  recollection  of  his  being  seemed  to  have  been  obliter- 
ated from  her  mind. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

KEGBETS  :    A    LATE   REVIVAL   OF   AFFECTION. 

It  seems  to  be  of  the  economy  of  life  that  much  of 
the  expiation  of  guilt  is  done  by  the  innocent.  These 
sometimes  are  beset  more  than  evil  doers  by  regret  and 
remorse.  Indeed,  I  am  not  sure  that  those  who  have 
had  profoundest  insight  into  the  interior  being  of  man- 


REGRETS:  A  LATE  REVIVAL  OF  AFFECTION.  297 

kind,  if  asked  what  emotion  in  its  just  reality  was 
most  rare,  would  answer — remorse.  From  a  man's  own 
odiousness  he  must  try  to  turn  his  eyes  in  order  to  get 
a  glimpse  of  what  is,  or  what  he  believes  to  be,  good  in 
his  individual  being ;  and  so  he  represses  as  much  as 
he  can  of  the  recollection  of  his  evil  deeds,  or  pleads 
extenuation  that  would  avail  little  before  any  other 
tribunal  than  that  of  his  own  mind.  Contrariwise,  the 
innocent,  whose  lives  have  been  mixed — in  degrees  of 
confidence,  fondness,  and  love — with  those  persons  who, 
if  not  grossly  evil,  are  unscrupulous  regarding  some 
subjects  of  vital  morality,  when  retribution  has  come 
sudden  and  in  awful  form,  are  apt  to  reproach  them- 
selves for  their  own  imagined  neglect  of  the  means 
which  might  have  prevented  what  has  befallen.  The 
first  shock  upon  Alice  Guthrie  was  perhaps  more  ap- 
palling than  it  would  have  been  if  her  married  life  had 
been  happier.  It  was  impossible  for  her  to  remain  in 
such  a  frame  for  a  very  long  time ;  but  the  thought 
that  the  man  whom  she  had  loved  so  dearly,  her  grief 
for  whose  infirmities  had  been  the  more  imbittered  be- 
cause they  had  been  indulged  in  almost  open  disregard 
of  the  feeling  she  had  for  him,  was  now  dead,  wrung 
her  heart  with  an  agony  more  painful  than  if  he  had 
been  what  she  had  trusted  that  he  was  when  she  gave 
herself  to  him.  Perhaps  if  she  had  submitted  without 
complaint  to  the  rule  to  which,  as  her  husband,  he  was 
entitled  ;  perhaps  if  she  had  taken  into  account  on  what 
a  wider,  ruder,  more  varied,  more  undefined,  and  more 
willful  scale  are  a  man's  wants  than  a  woman's  ;  perhaps, 
admitted  that  she  had  any  right  or  duty  to  counsel  at 
all,  if  she  had  counseled  with  more  meekness  and  hum- 


298  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

ble  fear ;  perhaps  if  she  had  not  come  away  from  him 
when  she  did,  and,  as  it  were,  left  liim  deserted  in  the 
midst  of  sudden  great  trials  when  he  had  most  need  of 
sympathy  and  counsel ;  perhaps  if  she  had  decided  to 
accept  and  endure  all  that  had  come  and  all  that  was  to 
come  from  merging  her  own  lesser  being  into  his  greater ; 
perhaps — perhaps,  oh,  perhaps !  he  might  have  been 
saved  from  such  an  end  and  led  a  life  her  own  part  of 
which,  if  not  happiness,  might  have  had  content. 

Fortunately  she  was  with  her  parents,  especially  her 
father,  just  and  judicious,  as  he  was  faithful  and  fond. 
He  let  her  fall  prostrate  at  the  coming  of  the  dreadful 
news,  and  did  not  lift  her  up ;  he  counseled  her  mother 
to  let  her  lie  where  she  was,  and  wait  until  her  self- 
accusings  had  exhausted  themselves  and  her  own  heart 
would  cry  out  for  others  to  answer  them  as  she  could 
not.  Not  waiting  too  long  for  that  time  to  come,  in 
brief  words  fitly  chosen  he  pleaded  her  cause.  If  it 
gave  an  added  pain  to  know  that  it  was  a  relief  to  him 
that  she  had  been  taken  out  from  a  connection  that 
ought  not  to  have  been  made,  and  that  in  some  other 
way  must  have  been  rent  asunder  by  a  force  that  might 
have  been  yet  more  unhappy,  yet  she  could  not  but 
listen  to  his  wise,  aifectionate  comfortings  and  appeals 
to  her  own  instincts  to  self-preservation  against  remorse 
for  things  for  which  she  in  no  wise  was  culpable,  but 
which,  as  a  true  woman  and  a  true  wife,  she  had  labored 
to  prevent. 

Her  father  accompanied  her  to  the  funeral.  They 
sojourned  at  her  own  house  until  it  was  over.  She 
would  have  returned  with  him  but  for  the  condition 
of  Mrs.  Guthrie.     To  Mr.  Macfarlane,  who  mentioned 


REGRETS:   A  LATE  REVIVAL  OF  AFFECTION.  299 

administration  on  the  estate,  Mr.  Ludwell  answered, 
without  consulting  with  his  daughter,  that  neither  he 
nor  she  would  undertake  it ;  and  he  added  that  she 
would  decline  to  receive  any  of  the  property  except 
what  had  been  given  by  himself.  After  that,  Tolly,  at 
the  suggestion  of  Mr.  Macfarlane,  who  foresaw  that 
Mrs.  Guthrie's  incompetency  would  be  perpetual,  took 
that  trust  upon  himself. 

It  was  touching  to  see  how  all  these  things  wrought 
upon  Peterson  Braddy.  Horrified  at  the  result  of  his 
encounter  with  Guthrie,  his  anger  yielded  immediately 
to  remorse  and  compassion.  Weeping  aloud,  he  went 
to  the  sheriff  and  said  that  he  was  ready  to  be  taken  to 
jail. 

"  Go  on  home,  Peter,"  answered  the  officer.  "  I'm 
not  afraid  of  your  being  out  of  the  way  when  I  call  for 
you." 

Returning  home,  when  his  mother  was  told  what 
he  had  done  she  wept  sorely,  but  said : 

"  "Well,  my  son,  I'm  sorry  from  the  bottom  of  my 
heart ;  but  that  man  had  tried  to  hurt  you  and  this 
family  more  than  you  knew  of.  "We  would  not  let 
Emily  tell  you  all  for  fear  you'd  do  what  you've  just 
done.  I'm  thankful  that  we  did  not,  and  that  at  the 
last  you  were  acting  in  self-defense." 

"  "What,  ma ! "  he  said,  momentarily  ignoring  his 
own  misfortune.  "  My  God !  did  Billy  Pruitt  take 
Emily  not  knowin'  how — " 

"  O  Peterson,  my  dear  son,"  she  quickly  interrupted, 
"  it  was  not  anigh  as  bad  as  you  seem  to  think.  Dun- 
can Guthrie  had  flattered  the  child  into  believing  that 
he  was  in  love  with  her,  and,  if  it  had  not  been  found 


300  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

out  in  time,  he  might  have  ruined  her ;  but  when  her 
mother  and  me  told  her  what  he  meant  by  some  of  the 
words  he  spoke  to  her  she  was  scared  nearly  out  of  her 
life,  and  she  made  her  mother  go  straight  to  William 
and  tell  him  all  about  it.  William  saw  how  it  was,  and 
he  said  he  wanted  her  the  same  as  before ;  and  well  he 
might,  for  she  was  as  innocent  as  a  baby  of  anything 
wrong  more  than  such  little  vanity  as  most  girls  have 
that's  as  pretty  as  she  was.  William  wanted  to  go  to 
the  young  man  and  have  a  fight  with  him ;  but  we 
wouldn't  let  him,  and  we  made  him  promise  not  to 
mention  the  matter  to  you." 

He  bit  his  lips  to  repress  another  pang  of  resent- 
ment It  passed  away,  and  afterward  he  was  never 
heard  to  mention  Guthrie's  name. 

Mrs.  Guthrie  lay  upon  her  bed,  and  did  nothing  ex- 
cept in  meek  obedience  to  those  around  her.  She  sel- 
dom spoke,  and  when  she  did  it  was  as  if  she  was  try- 
ing to  conciliate  and  lull  an  infant.  One  day  Alice  laid 
by  her  the  little  Caroline.  She  looked  at  it  fondly,  and, 
for  a  moment  or  two,  fumbled  with  the  button  on  the 
neck  of  her  gown.  Then  releasing  it,  she  said  in  a 
whisper : 

"  No,  Bitter,  no ;  she  is  not  hungry,  she  is  asleep 
already.  Lay  her  in  her  crib,  and  be  careful  not  to 
wake  her." 

One  morning,  after  a  long  sleep,  she  awoke  and 
seemed  to  be  troubled. 

"  Where  is  Caroline  ? "  she  asked  piteously.  "  I  let 
her  co  to  her  Aunt  Louisa's  to  show  little  Charlotte 
how  to  play  with  her  doll.  Bitter  ought  to  have 
brought  her  back  before  now.     Won't  some  of  you 


DISMISSAL  OF  THE  SUIT.  301 

please  go  and  hurry  them  on  home?     I'll  be  much 

obliged  to  you." 

In  a  few  moments  her  face  cleared,  and  she  said  : 
"  Ah !    here   she   is !      Thank   you.      Pretty  child, 

isn't  she  i     That'll  do.     The  rest  of  you  may  go  now." 

Then  she  expired. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

DISMISSAL    OF    THE    SUIT. 

At  the  October  term  of  the  court,  when  the  case  of 
John  Stapleton,  etc.,  vs.  Hester  Guthrie  was  sounded, 
Tolly  answered,  requesting  the  judge  to  enter  upon 
the  docket  "  Dismissed."  Then  Mr.  Torrance  rose,  and 
said : 

"  May  it  please  the  Court :  As  counsel  for  the  re- 
spondent in  the  case  which  my  brother  Tolly  has  just 
prayed  your  Honor  to  dismiss,  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  say  a 
few  words  in  explanation  of  some  of  her  actions  which 
were  not  well  understood.  For  several  years,  as  your 
Honor  may  have  heard,  the  general  mind  of  this  com- 
munity, when  it  has  been  rather  pointedly  condemning 
her  deportment  toward  some  members  of  her  family, 
has  speculated  with  more  or  less  interest  upon  the 
causes  which  induced  a  discrimination  so  unreasonable, 
apparently  so  unnatural.  It  is  known,  however,  that 
during  her  wedded  life  she  mingled  little  in  other  soci- 
ety than  that  of  her  own  home,  and  in  almost  none 
since  the  death  of  her  husband.  I  need  not  argue  that 
such  seclusion  from  human  intercourse  must  make  few 


302  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

the  chances  of  cure  from  any  infirmity — to  be  both 
candid  and  just,  I  should  rather  say  malady — of  under- 
standing, and  even  keep  from  nearest  neighbors  the 
knowledge  of  its  existence.  Almost  at  the  beginning 
of  the  confidential  relations  between  her  and  myself  as 
her  counsel,  I  detected  that  her  intellect  had  been  mis- 
led by  delusions  which  of  all  seem  most  unhappy,  and 
therefore  most  to  be  compassionated.  Ardently,  in- 
tensely, passionately  affectionate  by  nature,  persuaded 
that  from  some  members  of  her  family  the  returns  re- 
ceived were  inadequate  to  what  she  lavished  upon  them, 
she  had  not  strength  to  resist  the  impulsion  which  such 
a  delusion  imparts  toward  resentment  that,  with  beings 
like  hers,  is  perhaps  the  most  grievous  of  misfortunes. 
It  is  the  more  grievous  when  the  sufferer  exaggerates 
both  her  own  and  the  corresponding  affections  of  others 
to  whom  she  turns  through  the  instinct  of  forefending 
absolute,  abject  despair.  Of  like  origin  was  her  unrea- 
soning adherence  to  those,  so  named,  class  distinctions 
whose  inevitable  disappearance  in  the  changing  condi- 
tions of  our  social  system  thoughtful  minds  must  fore- 
see and  her  passionate  hostility  to  a  union  which  dur- 
ing its  brief  career  was  signally  blessed.  To  this  in- 
firmity it  was  easy  for  one  admitted  within  her  confi- 
dence to  discover  were  attributable  her  strange  neglect 
on  one  side,  on  the  other  her  inordinate  favoritism  and 
the  eager  energy  with  which,  in  hope  of  holding  on  to 
the  only  love  which  she  believed  to  be  hers,  she  strove 
for  the  continued  accumulation  of  what,  estimating  by 
a  standard  too  often  true,  she  regarded  most  contribu- 
tory to  that  end.  In  the  case  wherein  to  outsiders  her 
natural  affection  seemed  to  have  been  obtunded,  its  very 


DISMISSAL  OF  TI1E  SUIT.  303 

intensity  was  the  source  of  its  disappointment.  These 
words  of  mine  have  abundant  proof  in  the  fact  that  on 
her  bed  of  death  the  Divine  Being  mercifully  let  her  last 
infatuation  take  a  happy  form,  when,  in  her  imagina- 
tion, the  one  whom  she  seemed  to  have  discarded,  be- 
came again  a  little  child  and  was  fondled  upon  her 
breast. 

"  I  am  free  to  say,  may  it  please  your  Honor,  that 
among  my  clients,  even  among  all  my  acquaintances,  I 
have  never  known  a  person  in  whom  the  sense  of  truth 
and  general  uprightness  was  more  pronounced.  Had 
she  lived  to  make  answer  to  this  complainant's  bill,  not 
only  would  she  not  have  contradicted  or  sought  to 
avoid  a  single  allegation  that  she  believed  to  be  true, 
but  she  would  have  insisted  upon  discovering  other 
facts  unknown  to  the  complainant,  even  if  assured  that 
such  discovery  would  have  rendered  vain  all  resistance 
to  the  case.  She  solemnly  believed  that  everything 
done  by  her  was  honorable  and  just.  But  there  never 
would  have  been  protracted  litigation.  A  proposal 
would  have  been  made  at  this  term  of  the  court  for  a 
settlement  which,  from  my  knowledge  of  complainant's 
counsel  and  himself,  I  am  sure  would  have  been  accept- 
ed.    I  thank  the  Court  for  its  indulgence." 

"When  he  ceased,  Bond,  who  a  month  before  had 
married  Miss  Jewell,  rose,  and,  with  much  feeling, 
said  : 

"  May  it  please  your  Honor,  the  words  just  spoken 
by  my  brother  Torrance  can  not  but  impart  much  relief 
to  all  minds,  to  none  more  gratefully  than  my  own ;  for 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  to  necessary  degrees  they 
are  applicable  to  the  respondent's  unhappy  son.     To 


304  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

me,  what  time  I  held  his  acquaintance,  it  became  a  mat- 
ter of  much  surprise  that  one  so  variously '  gifted,  so 
fortunate  in  possession  inherited  and  achieved,  in  hope 
and  in  prospect,  diverged  into  ways  which  an  under- 
standing well  balanced  must  foresee  can  lead  only  to 
misfortune.  I  am  profoundly  gratified  to  believe  that 
such  eccentricities  were  moved  by  influences  which  the 
very  strongest  and  most  valiant  can  never  wholly  over- 
come. Therefore  I  feel  all  the  regret,  and  my  mind 
and  my  heart  pay  all  the  honor  that  belong  to  the  mem- 
ory of  Duncan  Guthrie." 

Mrs.  Macfarlane,  when  these  sj>eeches  were  reported 
to  her,  wept  many,  but  they  were  thankful  tears.  She 
remembered  that  in  the  girlhood  of  her  sister  their 
mother  had  suffered  much  anxiety  regarding  the  for- 
mer's sanity,  and  once  had  spoken  of  it  to  their  father, 
but  he  had  ignored  it  with  much  anger,  and  so  allusion 
to  it  was  never  made  again. 


CHAPTER   XXXY. 

ALICE    RETURNS    TO    BROAD    RIVER. 

Taken  again  to  the  bosom  of  her  parents,  Alice  did 
not  try  to  forget,  unhappy  as  most  of  it  had  been,  the 
experience  of  her  married  life.  She  would  not  deny  to 
her  heart  that  she  had  loved  dearly  the  husband  so  gift- 
ed to  win  an  ardent,  trustful  young  woman's  love.  The 
singleness  of  her  devotion  had  intensified  the  pain  that 
had  come  with  the  discovery  of  selfishness  that  amount- 


ALICE  RETURNS  TO  BROAD  RIVER.  305 

ed  to  dereliction  in  the  sense  of  honor.  These  her 
mind  must  remember  along  with  the  fond  things ;  but 
mingled  with  a  sense  of  deliverance  from  a  union  which 
had  fallen  so  soon  into  disaster  were  a  sorrow,  at  times 
profound,  almost  passionate,  that  such  had  been  its  des- 
tiny, and  a  pity  often  overflowing  in  tears  for  him  who, 
with  such  recklessness,  had  ruined  himself. 

Yet  the  innocent  can  not  always  go  bowed  down, 
and  their  resilience  from  self-reproach,  although  not 
marked  by  outward  sign,  must  be  gladsome.  In  time 
the  freshness  and  some  of  the  cheerfulness  of  girlhood 
came  back.  Thankful  to  know  that  Mrs.  Guthrie's 
understanding  was  proved  to  have  been  so  much  im- 
paired, more  painful  must  have  been  the  recollection 
of  he*  son's  infirmities  if  her  heart  had  not  pleaded 
condonement  of  what  inheritance  and  misdirected  in- 
dulgence had  made  inevitable. 

Some  months  after  her  return,  Stapleton,  with  his 
son,  made  a  two  days'  visit.  Her  parents  were  im- 
pressed by  him  much  and  wondered  that  such  a  man  could 
have  been  ever  an  object  of  dislike.  They  did  not  see 
him  again  for  more  than  a  year.  He  then  proposed  to 
take  back  his  daughter,  but  was  gratified  when  Alice 
answered,  no,  not  yet.  In  this  while  he  continued  to 
live  at  his  home,  trying,  without  much  success,  to  make 
it  look  as  during  the  time  of  his  wife.  Braddy  often 
rode  down,  and,  in  his  old-fashioned  way,  sometimes 
jested  at  his  crude  attempts  to  prune  the  shrubbery  and 
train  the  vines.  He  would  have  eluded  him,  perhaps, 
for  not  making  more  personal  showing  of  the  large  estate 
that  had  devolved  to  his  children,  but  that  such  chiding 
would  have  induced  thoughts  that  he  must  not  indulge. 
20 


306  WIDOW  GUTHRIE. 

On  his  next  visit  to  the  Ludwells,  he  was  dressed 
with  careful  regard  to  prevailing  fashion,  and  wore  the 
air  of  a  serious  but  undisturbed  man  of  the  world. 

"  I'm  very  glad  you  came,  Mr.  Stapleton,  but  why 
didn't  you  bring  Alan  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  on  whose  face  was  a  sheen  like 
that  of  maidenhood,  and  answered  : 

"  Not  this  time,  Alice.  I  decided  not  to  bring  him 
this  time." 

Grief  and  solitude  soften  the  manners  of  a  good 
man.  On  him  comes  not  the  wearing  that  often  oldens 
women.  Manful  always,  living  in  memory  of  a  great 
loss  had  enhanced  a  dignity  and  courteousness  that 
were  very  attractive.  He  was  to  remain  two  nights 
and  a  day. 

A  few  rods  in  the  rear  of  the  mansion  the  ground 
declined  abruptly  about  a  hundred  feet  to  a  bold  spring 
of  water.  Around  this  was  a  dense  growth  of  trees 
and  various  shrubbery,  among  whose  thickets,  thrushes, 
cat-birds,  fly-catchers,  and  other  songsters,  flitted  and 
chirruped.  Several  rustic  seats  were  around.  Hither 
Alice  often  retired,  mornings  and  afternoons,  to  spend 
an  hour  in  reading  and  meditation.  Stapleton  accom- 
panied her  there  the  evening  before  he  was  to  leave. 
Sunset  came  on  while  they  were  talking  about  the  en- 
gagement of  Tolly  and  Charlotte  Macfarlane. 

"  "Well,"  said  Stapleton,  "  the  visit  has  done  me 
good,  and  I  have  put  off  till  now  to  tell  you  what  was 
my  chief  purpose." 

She  looked  up,  her  eyelids  trembled,  and  she  turned 
her  face  away. 

"  That  was  to  ask  you  to  marry  me,  Alice." 


ALICE  RETURNS  TO  BROAD  RIVER.  307 

Some  tremor  was  in  his  voice,  but  the  brief  direct- 
ness of  his  words  showed  the  feeling  of  a  right  to  say 
them,  even  if  without  a  thought  of  anything  upon  which 
he  could  lay  a  hope. 

"  O  Mr.  Stapleton !  "  she  said,  as  if  overwhelmed 
with  confusion,  "  how  could  you  ask  such  an  impossible 
thing  ! " 

Covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  she  wept  almost 
aloud. 

"  Alice,  I  foresaw  that  the  announcement  of  such  a 
wish  would  be  painful  to  you,  although  I  can  not  but  be- 
lieve that  you  must  have  suspected  that  it  was  to  come  at 
some  time  or  other.  I  have  studied  my  heart,  and  tried 
to  discipline  its  feelings.  The  result  is,  I  have  decided 
to  follow  what  I  can  not,  and  am  not  willing  to  resist. 
I  expected  a  refusal ;  but  I  beg  you  not  to  make  it  posi- 
tive and  perpetual,  unless  you  feel  that  it  is  not  possi- 
ble for  your  regard  for  me  ever  to  become  different 
from  what  it  has  been.  I  know  you  will  answer  me 
candidly,  as  you  have  always  done  with  everybody.  I 
am  going  to  put  to  you  a  question  which  I  have,  I  think, 
a  right  to  ask,  If  I  have,  I  think  you  ought  to  answer 
it.  If  the  thought,  or  the  apprehension  that  I  might 
address  you  as  I  have  done  just  now,  ever  entered  your 
mind,  among  the  reasons  that  made  you  turn  away  from 
it  was  there  the  feeling  that  in  no  circumstances  could 
my  suit  ever  have  prevailed  ? " 

The  paleness  disappeared  from  her  cheek,  and  a  dis- 
tinctive blush  took  its  place. 

"  Mr.  Stapleton — if  I  were  to  answer  that  question 
—but  I  can  not !     I— O  Mr.  Stapleton  !  " 

She  rose,  her  face  suffused  with  scarlet,  and  said  : 


308  WIDOW  GUTHEIE. 

"  Come,  let  us  return  to  the  house.  Not  another 
word  must  I  hear  upon  that  subject,  now  or  ever 
again."     And  she  started  to  move  away. 

"  Alice ! "  the  call,  low  as  it  was,  sounded  as  coming 
from  one  in  authority.  Still  seated,  as  she  turned  her 
face  back,  he  continued : 

"  I  will  say  no  more  upon  that  subject  now ;  but 
there  are  one  or  two  things  which  I  want  you  to  hear. 
I  loved  Caroline  with  a  love  as  entire  as  any  man  could 
feel  for  a  woman  so  richly  worthy  of  it.  As  I  felt 
toward  her  before  my  marriage  with  her,  so  now  I  feel 
toward  you.  There  is  no  mystery  in  that,  and  no  dere- 
liction of  loyalty.  I  should  never  seek  another  wife  if 
I  did  not  believe  that  I  should  love  again  as  I  loved 
her.  And  now  one  more.  I  am  going  back  home  to- 
morrow, to  be  away  six  months.  Then  I  shall  return. 
During  that  while  I  shall  not  write  to  you,  and  I  sol- 
emnly ask  that  you  do  not  write  to  me,  unless  it  be 
about  my  child  or  upon  a  subject  other  than  that  which 
I  have  just  named.  I  make  another  request,  the  motive 
of  which  I  am  not  afraid  of  your  misunderstanding. 
That  is,  that  before  that  period  expires  you  will  let 
your  parents  know  all  that  I  have  now  said.  But  to 
these  requests  I  ask  no  jjromise.  Now  I  will  return 
with  you  to  the  house." 

Never  had  he  shown  to  such  advantage  as  during 
this  visit.  Alice  was  glad  to  get  from  the  light  of  the 
supper  table  to  the  piazza.  During  the  evening,  sitting 
in  the  shadow  of  one  of  the  pillars,  she  listened  as,  un- 
constrained, respectful,  clear,  he  chatted  mainly  with 
her  father.  At  breakfast,  next  morning,  she  showed 
that  she  was  embarrassed  by  the  unusual  glow  that  she 


ALICE  RETURNS  TO   BROAD   RIVER.  309 

felt  to  be  upon  her  face.     When  the  baby  was  taken 
from  her  to  be  kissed  good-by  she  put  out  her  lips  but 
for  a  moment,  then  extended  her  arms  back  to  Alice. 
Smiling,  lie  said  . 

"  She  feels  that  she  belongs  to  you,  Alice." 
"  So  she  does ;  but  I  will  see  that  she  does  not  for- 
get you." 

On  a  fine  morning  before  the  tavern  door  a  carriage 
stood,  the  horses'  heads  turned  toward  Broad  River. 

"  Good-by,  Jack  !  "  said  Peterson  Braddy.  "  God 
A'mighty  bless  you,  Jack  ! " 

He  turned  away,  and  tears  were  in  his  eyes.  Imme- 
diately Stapleton  entered,  and  upon  his  mind  was  no 
shadow. 


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T 


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does  it  is  always  a  literary  event.  .  .  .  Her  previous  books  were  sketchy  and  slight 
when  compared  with  the  finished  and  trained  power  evidenced  in  'An  Utter  Failure.'" 
—New  Haven  Palladium. 


A 


PURITAN  PAGAN.     By  Julien  Gordon,  au- 
thor of  "A  Diplomat's  Diary,"  etc.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.00. 

"  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  Cruger  grows  stronger  as  she  writes.  .  .  .  The  lines  in  her 
story  are  boldly  and  vigorously  etched." — New  York  Times. 

"  The  author's  recent  books  have  made  for  her  a  secure  place  in  current  literature, 
where  she  can  stand  fast.  .  .  .  Her  latest  production,  '  A  Puritan  Pagan,' is  an  eminent- 
ly clever  story,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word  clever." — Philadelphia  Telegraph. 

"  It  is  obvious  that  the  author  is  thoroughly  at  home  in  illustrating  the  manner  and 
the  sentiment  of  the  best  society  of  both  America  and  Europe." — Chicago  Times. 


E 


LINE   VERE.      By  Louis  Couperus.      Translated 

from  the  Dutch  by  J.  T.  Grein.      With  an   Introduction  by 

Edmund  Gosse.     Holland  Fiction  Series.    i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.00. 

"  Most  careful  in  its  details  of  description,  most  picturesque  in  its  coloring." — Boston 
Post. 

"  A  vivacious  and  skillful  performance,  giving  an  evidently  faithful  picture  of  society, 
and  evincing  the  art  of  a  true  story-teller." — Philadelphia  Telegraph. 

"The  ddnoHment 'is  tragical,  thrilling,  and  picturesque." — New  York  World. 

New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  1,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.  APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

-pROM  DUSK  TO  DAWN.  By  Katharine 
J-  Pearson  Woods,  author  of  "  Metzerott,  Shoemaker."  i2mo. 
Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  Rarely,  indeed,  does  an  author  attain  to  such  wide  prominence  in  so  short  a  time 
as  did  Katharine  Pearson  Woods  on  the  appearance  of  her  somewhat  socialistic  novel 
called  '  Metzerott,  Shoemaker.'  That  story,  however,  with  all  its  absorbing  power, 
gave  only  the  faintest  evidence  of  the  real  strength  that  has  hitherto  remained  latent, 
but  which  is  now  so  wonderfully  developed  in  her  latest  story,  '  From  Dusk  to  Dawn.'  " 
—Baltimore  A  merican. 

"The  author  has  not  only  successfully  interwoven  discussion  upon  religion  and  the 
occult  sciences,  but  she  has  handled  them  throughout  in  a  masterly  manner,  predicating 
her  entire  familiarity  with  them." — Boston  Commercial  Bulletin. 

"  If  a  novel  may  be  called  orthodox,  this  book  is  entitled  to  come  under  that 
classification." — San  Francisco  Call. 

"The  whole  treatment  is  stimulative  of  thought  in  comparatively  new  channels." 
— New  York  Commercial  Advertiser 

CAPT'N  DAVY'S  HONEYMOON.  A  Manx 
Yarn.  By  Hall  Caine,  author  of  "The  Deemster,"  "The 
Scape-Goat,"  etc.     121110.     Cloth,  $1.00. 

"  A  new  departure  by  this  author.  Unlike  his  previous  works,  this  little  tale  is  al- 
most wholly  humorous,  with,  however,  a  current  of  pathos  underneath.  It  is  not  always 
that  an  author  can  succeed  equally  well  in  tragedy  and  in  comedy,  but  it  looks  as 
though  Mr.  Hall  Caine  would  be  one  of  the  exceptions." — London  Literary  World. 

"  Constructed  with  great  ingenuity.  The  story  is  full  of  delight." — Boston  Adver- 
tiser. 

"  A  rollicking  story  of  Manx  life,  well  told.  .  .  .  Mr.  Caine  has  really  written  no 
book  superior  in  character-drawing  and  dramatic  force  to  this  little  comedy." — Boston 
Beacon. 

"  It  is  pleasant  to  meet  the  author  of  '  The  Deemster'  in  a  brightly  humorous  little 
story  like  this.  ...  It  shows  the  same  observation  of  Manx  character  and  much  of 
the  same  artistic  skill." — Philadelphia  Times. 

POOTSTEPS    OF  FATE.      By  Louis   Couperus, 

J-  author  of  "  Eline  Vere."  Translated  from  the  Dutch  by  Clara 
Bell.  With  an  Introduction  by  Edmund  Gosse.  Holland  Fic- 
tion Series.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.00. 

"  It  is  a  very  remarkable  book,  and  can  not  fail  to  make  a  profound  impression  by 
its  strength  and  originality.  ...  Its  interest  is  intense,  and  the  tragedy  wiih  which  it 
closes  is  depicted  with  remarkable  grace  and  passion." — Boston  Saturday  Evening 
Gazette. 

"The  dramatic  development  up  to  a  tragical  climax  is  in  the  manner  of  a  true 
artist. " — Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

"  A  remarkable  study  of  the  theory  of  fatalism  and  its  effect  upon  the  human  mind, 
of  the  sophistical  reasoning  to  which  it  leads,  and  of  the  absolute  indifference  to  ihe 
fate  of  others  which  it  succeeds  in  establishing.  If  the  work  of  the  Dutch  Sensitivists 
as  Edmund  Gosse  calls  them  in  his  preface,  is  maintained  on  such  a  level  as  this,  their 
translation  into  English  is  a  distinct  gain." — The  Critic. 

"  Almost  throughout  reveals  a  careful,  restrained  sobriety  of  manner,  and  an  ex- 
ceeding clearness  of  touch." — London  Aihenaum. 


New  York  :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  1,  3.  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


Brer  Rabbit  divulges  his  plans.     (From  "  Uncle  Remus.") 

T  JNCLE  REMUS :  his  Songs  and  his  Sayings.  The 
*--/  Folk-lore  of  the  Old  Plantation.  By  Joel  Chandler  Har- 
ris. Illustrated  from  Drawings  by  F.  S.  Church  and  J.  H. 
Moser,  of  Georgia.     l2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

*'  The  idea  of  preserving  and  publishing  these  legends  in  the  form  in  which  the  old 
plantation  negroes  actually  tell  them,  is  altogether  one  of  the  happiest  literary  con- 
ceptions of  the  day.  And  very  admirably  is  the  work  done.  .  .  .  In  such  touches  lies 
the  charm  of  this  fascinating  little  volume  of  legends,  which  deserves  to  be  placed  on  a 
level  with  Reincke  Fuchs  for  its  quaint  humor,  without  reference  to  the  ethnological 
interest  possessed  by  these  stories,  as  indicating,  perhaps,  a  common  origin  for  very 
widely  severed  races." — London  Spectator. 

"  We  are  just  discovering  what  admirable  literary  material  there  is  at  home,  what 
a  great  mine  there  is  to  explore,  and  how  quaint  and  peculiar  is  the  material  which 
can  be  dug  up.  Mr.  Harris's  book  may  be  looked  on  in  a  double  light — either  as  a 
pleasant  volume  recounting  the  stories  told  by  a  typical  old  colored  man  to  a  child, 
or  as  a  valuable  contribution  to  our  somewhat  meager  folk-lore.  ...  To  Northern 
readers  the  story  of  Brer  (Brother— Brudder)  Rabbit  may  be  novel.  To  those  familiar 
with  plantation  life,  who  have  listened  to  these  quaint  old  stories,  who  have  still  tender 
reminiscences  of  some  good  old  mauma  who  told  these  wondrous  adventures  to  them 
when  they  were  children,  Brer  Rabbit,  the  Tar  Baby,  and  Brer  Fox  come  back  again 
with  all  the  past  pleasures  of  younger  days." — New  York  Times. 

"  Uncle  Remus's  sayings  on  current  happenings  are  very  shrewd  and  bright,  and 
the  plantation  and  revival  songs  are  choice  specimens  of  their  sort." — Boston  Journal. 

"The  volume  is  a  most  readable  one,  whether  it  be  regarded  as  a  humorous  book 
merely,  or  as  a  contribution  to  the  literature  of  folk-lore." — New  York  World. 

"This  is  a  thoroughly  amusing  book,  and  is  much  the  best  humorous  compilation 
that  has  been  put  before  the  American  public  for  many  a  day." — Philadelphia  Tele- 
grip*-  ___^_ 

New  York :   D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  1,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.  APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


BRER   RABBIT   PREACHES. 


W  THE  PLANTA  TION. 
By  Joel  Chandler  Harris,  au- 
thor of  "  Uncle  Remus."  With 
23  Illustrations  by  E.  W.  Kem- 
BLE,  and  Portrait  of  the  Author. 
l2mo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 
The  most  personal  and  in  some  re- 
spects the  most  important  work  which 
Mr.  Harris  has  published  since  "Uncle 
Remus."  Many  will  read  between  the 
lines  and  see  the  autobiography  of  the 
author.  In  addition  to  the  stirring  inci- 
dents which  appear  in  the  story,  the  au- 
thor presents  a  graphic  picture  of  certain 
phases  of  Southern  hfe  which  have  not 
appeared  in  his  books  before.  There  are  also  new  examples  of  the  folk-lore 
of  the  negroes,  wh.ch  became  classic  when  presented  to  the  public  in  the 
pages  of  "  Uncle  Remus.'' 

"The  book  is  in  the  characteristic  vein  which  has  made  the  author  so  famous  ana 

popular  as  an  interpreter  of  plantation  character."— Rochester  Union  and  Advertiser. 

"Those  who  never  tire  of  Uncle  Remus  and  his  stories— with  whom  we  would  be 

accounted— will  delight  in  Joe  Maxwell  and  his  exploits.*'— London  Saturday  Review. 

"  Altogether  a  most  charming  book.'  —Chicago  Times. 

"  Really  a  valuable,  if  modest,  contribution  to  the  history  of  the  civil  war  within  the 
Confederate  lines,  particularly  on  the  eve  of  the  catastrophe.  While  Mr.  Harris,  in  his 
preface,  profess-s  to  have  lost  the  power  to  distinguish  between  what  is  true  and  what 
js  imaginative  in  his  episodical  narrative,  the  reader  readily  finds  the  clew.  Two  or 
three  new  animal  fables  are  introduced  with  effect ;  but  the  history  of  the  plantation,  the 
printing-office,  the  black  runaways,  and  white  deserters,  of  whom  the  impending  break- 
up made  the  community  tolerant,  the  coon  and  fox  hunting,  forms  the  serious  purpose 
of  the  book,  and  holds  the  reader's  interest  from  beginning  to  end.  Like  'Daddy  Jake, 
this  is  a  good  anti-slavery  tract  in  disguise,  and  does  credit  to  Mr.  Harris's  humanity. 
There  are  amusing  illustrations  by  E.  W.  Kemble."— New  York  Evening  Post. 

"A  charming  little  book,  tastefully  gotten  up.  ...  Its  simplicity,  humor,  and  indi- 
viduality would  be  very  welcome  to  any  one  who  was  weary  of  the  pretentiousness  and 
the  dull  obviousness  of  the  average  three-vclume  novel." — London  Clironic'te. 

"The  mirage  of  war  vanishes  and  reappears  like  an  ominous  shadow  on  the  horizon, 
but  the  stay-at-home  whites  of  the  Southern  Confederacy  were  likewise  threatened  by 
fears  of  a  servile  insurrection.  This  dark  dread  exerts  its  influence  on  a  narration  which 
is  otherwise  cheery  with  boyhood's  fortunate  freedom  from  anxiety,  and  sublime  disre- 
gard for  what  the  morrow  may  bring  forth.  The  simple  chronicle  of  old  times  'on  th« 
plantation  '  concludes  all  too  soon  ;  the  fire  burns  low  and  the  ta'e  is  ended  just  as  the 
reader  becomes  acclimated  to  the  mid-Georgian  village,  and  feels  thoroughly  at  home 
with  Joe  and  Mink.  The  'Owl  and  the  Birds,'  'Old  Zip  Coon,'  the  'Big  Injun  and 
the  Buzzard,'  are  joyous  echoes  of  the  plantation-lore  that  first  delighted  ns  in  'Uncle 
Remus.'  Kemble's  illustrations,  evidently  studied  from  life,  are  interspersed  in  these 
pages  of  a  book  of  consummate  charm." — Philadelphia  Ledger. 


New  York  ;  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,   1,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


L 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


OVE  SONGS  OF  ENGLISH  POETS,  1500-1800. 

With   Notes  by   Ralph    H.    Caine,  and   Frontispiece   after 

Angelica  Kauffman.     i6mo.     Cloth. 

In  this  collection  the  editor  has  carefully  culled  the  rarest  flowers  from 
the  rich  fields  of  English  poetry,  and  has  produced  a  volume  which  is  a  sin- 
gularly delicate  and  perfect  expression  of  the  universal  passion  in  verse. 

"  Is  it  not  a  little  singular  that,  amid  the  many  treasuries  of  poetry  which  have  been 
published  with  so  much  acceptance  during  the  last  nve-and-twenty  years,  there  have 
been  so  few  devoted  to  the  poetry  of  love?  This  is  the  consideration  which  emboldens 
me  in  putting  forth  the  present  volume.  Its  scope  is  limited,  and  even  within  its  limits 
its  possibilities  are  circumscribed.  A  body  of  English  love-poetry  from  the  earliest 
times  to  the  present  has  appeared  to  me  too  great  for  representation  within  the  space 
of  a  single  volume.  1  have  therefore  contented  myself  with  the  fullest  selection  possible, 
down  to  the  beginning  of  the  present  century.  .  .  .  Of  lovers  of  every  mood  and 
variety,  examples  will  be  found  in  these  pages.  There  are  the  true  lover  and  the  false 
lover,  the  constant  lover  and  the  jealous  lover,  the  quiet  lover  and  the  boisterous  lover, 
the  merry  lover  and  the  mournful  lover,  the  humble  lover  and  the  conceited  lover,  the 
admiring  lover  and  the  pressing  lover.  We  have  the  lover  before  marriage  and  the 
lover  after  marriage.  .  .  .  " — From  the  Introduction. 

"  An  admirable  selection." — London  Athenaum. 

"  From  the  stores  of  some  three  centuries  much  poetic  treasure  of  the  first  order  in 
art  is  forthcoming." — London  Saturday  Review. 


A 


ILLUSTRATED    EDITION   OF 

N  ATTIC  PHILOSOPHER  IN  PARIS;  or, 
A  Peep  at  the  World  from  a  Garret.  Being  the  Journal  of  a 
Happy  Man.  By  Emile  Souvestre.  With  39  Illustrations 
by  Jean  Claude.     8vo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

The  great  popularity  of  "An  Attic  Philosopher  in  Paris,"  by  Emile 
Souvestre,  has  led  the  publishers  to  prepare  this  fine  illustrated  edition, 
uniform  with  the  illustrated  edition  of  "  Colette."  For  this  volume  a  large 
number  of  full-page  and  vignette  illustrations  have  been  made  by  the  French 
artist  Jean  Claude,  the  illustrator  of  ''  Colette."  A  rich  binding  has  been 
specially  designed,  and  this  volume,  considering  the  fine  literary  quality  of  the 
text  and  the  daintiness  of  the  book's  appearance,  will  be  found  to  possess 
a  permanent  value. 

"  A  delightful  bit  of  French  sentiment.  The  poor  and  unfortunate  are  represented 
as  making  the  best  of  their  miserable  surroundings,  helping  each  other  with  unselfish 
zeal,  and  a  rose-colored  light  is  thrown  over  many  a  disagreeable  situation.  The  tone 
is  wholesome  and  helpful,  and  many  passages  are  full  of  pathos.  There  is,  too,  an 
enthusiasm  for  country,  for  the  growth  and  glory  of  France,  which  is  charming." — 
Portland  Transcript. 

"  From  his  loophole  of  retreat  in  a  garret,  the  philosopher  peeps  at  the  world 
and  moralizes  wisely,  in  a  spirit  of  gentle  humanity,  and  without  a  touch  of  cynicism. 
A  very  bright  and  wholesome  piece  of  writing,  and  well  worth  the  translating." — 
Christian  Register. 

"  Made  up  of  simple  incidents  and  observations  growing  therefrom,  the  attic  phi- 
losopher finds  plenty  of  material  on  which  to  tnin  his  pretty  sentiments  like  vines 
upon  a  trellis.  .  .  .  Humanity  will  suffer  nothing  by  the  perusal  of  this  little  book." — 
Chicago  Evening  "Journal. 


New  York  :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  1,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


T 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

GEORGE    H.   ELLWANGER'S   BOOKS. 

HE  GARDEN'S  STORY;  or,  Pleasures  and  Trials 
of  an  Amateur  Gardener.  With  Head  and  Tail  Pieces  by 
Rhead.     i6mo.     Cloth,  extra,  $1.50. 

"This  dainty  nugget  of  horticultural  lore  treats  of  the  pleasures  and  trials  of  an 
amateur  gardener.  From  the  time  when  daffodils  begin  to  peer  and  the  'secret  of  the 
year'  comes  in  to  mid-October,  Mr.  Ellwanger  provides  an  outline  of  hardy  flower- 
gardening  that  can  be  carried  on  and  worked  upon  by  amateurs.  ...  A  little  chapter 
.on  '  Warm  Weather  Wisdom '  is  a  presentment  of  the  cream  of  English  literature. 
Nor  is  the  information  of  this  floral  calendar  confined  to  the  literary  or  theoretical 
sides.  '  Plant  thickly ;  it  is  easier  and  more  profitable  to  raise  flowers  than  weeds,'  is  a 
practical  direction  from  the  garden  syllabus." — Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

"  One  of  the  most  charming  books  of  the  season.  .  .  .  This  little  volume,  printed 
in  excellent  taste,  is  redolent  of  garden  fragrance  and  garden  wisdom.  .  .  .  It  is  in  no 
sense  a  text-book,  but  it  combines  a  vast  deal  of  information  with  a  great  deal  of  out- 
of-door  observation,  and  exceedingly  pleasant  and  sympathetic  writing  about  flowers 
and  plants." — Christian  Union. 

"  A  dainty,  learned,  charming,  and  delightful  book." — ATew  York  Sun. 

n^HE  STORY  OF  MY  HOUSE.     With  an  Etched 

•»         Frontispiece  by  Sidney  L.  Smith,  and  numerous  Head  and  Tail 

Pieces  by  W.  C.  Greenough.     i6mo.     Cloth,  extra,  $1.50. 

"  An  essay  on  the  building  of  a  house,  with  all  its  kaleidoscopic  possibilities  in  the 
way  of  reform,  and  its  tantalizing  successes  before  the  fact,  is  always  interesting  ;  and 
the  author  is  not  niggardly  in  the  gocd  points  he  means  to  secure.  It  is  but  natural  to 
follow  these  with  a  treatise  on  rugs  full  of  Orientalism  and  enthusiasm  ;  on  the  literary 
den  and  the  caller,  welcome  or  otherwise ;  on  the  cabinets  of  porcelain,  the  rare  edi- 
tions on  the  shelves,  the  briefly  indicated  details  of  the  spoils  of  the  chase  in  their 
proper  place;  on  the  greenhouse,  with  its  curious  climate  and  wonderful  botany  and 
odors,  about  which  the  author  writes  with  unusual  charm  and  precision;  on  the  dining- 
room  and  the  dinner.  .  .  .  The  book  aims  only  to  be  agreeable;  its  literary  flavor  is 
pervasive,    its  sentiment  kept  well  in  hand." — New  York  Evening  Post. 

"  When  the  really  perfect  book  of  its  class  comes  to  a  critic's  hands,  all  the  words 
he  has  used  to  describe  fairly  satisfactory  ones  are  inadequate  for  his  new  purpose,  and 
he  feels  inclined,  as  in  this  case,  to  stand  aside  and  let  the  book  speak  for  itself.  In  its 
own  way,  it  would  be  hardly  possible  for  this  daintily  printed  volume  to  do  better." — 
Art  A mateur. 

/N  GOLD  AND  SILVER.  With  Illustrations  by 
W.  Hamilton  Gibson,  A.  B.  Wenzell,  and  W.  C.  Greenough. 
i6mo.  Cloth,  $2.00.  Also,  limited  Edition  de  luxe,  on  Japanese 
vellum,  $5.00. 

Contents  :  The  Golden  Rug  of  Kermanshah  ;  Warders  of  the  Woods  ; 
A  Shadow  upon  the  Pool ;  The  Silver  Fox  of  Hunt's  Hollow. 

"  After  spending  a  half  hour  with  '  In  Gold  and  Silver,'  one  recalls  the  old  saying, 
'Precious  things  come  in  small  parcels.'  " — Christian  Intelligencer. 

"One  of  the  handsomest  gift-books  of  the  year."— Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

"The  whole  book  is  eminently  interesting,  and  emphatically  deserving  of  the  very 
handsome  and  artistic  setting  it  has  received." — Xeiv  )'<r/t  Tribune. 

New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  1,  3.  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


HAND-BOOKS   OF   SOCIAL   USAGES. 
(SOCIAL    ETIQUETTE  OF  NEW  YORK.     Re- 

*—s       written  and  enlarged.     l8mo.     Cloth,  gilt,  $1.00. 

Special  pains  have  been  taken  to  make  this  work  represent  accurately 
existing  customs  in  New  York  society.  The  subjects  treated  are  of  visiting 
and  visiting-cards,  giving  and  attending  balls,  receptions,  dinners,  etc., 
debuts,  chaperons,  weddings,  opera  and  theatre  parties,  costumes  and  cus- 
toms, addresses  and  signatures,  and  funeral  customs,  covering  so  far  as 
practicable  all  social  usages. 

ON'Tj  or,  Directions  for  avoiding  Improprieties  in 
Conduct  and  Common  Errors  of  Speech.  By  Censor.  Parch. 
ment-Paper  Edition,  square  i8mo,  30  cents.  Vest-Pocket  Edi- 
tion, cloth,  flexible,  gilt  edges,  red  lines,  30  cents.  Boudoir 
Edition  (with  a  new  chapter  designed  for  young  people),  cloth, 
gilt,  30  cents.     130th  thousand. 

"  Don't "  deals  with  manners  at  the  table,  in  the  drawing-room,  and  in 
public,  with  taste  in  dress,  with  personal  habits,  with  common  mistakes  in 
rarious  situations  in  life,  and  with  ordinary  errors  of  speech. 

'HAT  TO  DO.     A  Companion  to  "Don't."     By 

Mrs.  Oliver  Bell  Bunce.     Small  i8mo,  cloth,  gilt,  uniform 

with  Boudoir  Edition  of  "  Don't,"  30  cents. 

A  dainty  little  book,  containing  helpful  and  practical  explanations  of 
social  usages  and  rules.  It  tells  the  reader  how  to  entertain  and  how  to  be 
entertained,  and  sets  forth  the  etiquette  of  engagements  and  marriages,  in- 
troductions and  calls. 


W\ 


"G 


OOI)     FORM"     IN     ENGLAND.        By     An 

American,  resident  in  the  United  Kingdom.  i2mo.  Cloth, 
$1.50. 

"The  raison  d'etre  of  this  book  is  to  provide  Americans — and  especially  those 
visiting  England — with  a  concise,  comprehensive,  and  comprehensible  hand-book 
which  will  give  them  all  necessary  information  respecting  '  how  things  are '  in  Eng- 
land. While  it  deals  with  subject-,  connected  with  all  ranks  and  classes,  it  is  particularly 
intended  to  be  an  exhibit  and  explanation  of  the  ways,  habits,  customs,  and  usages  of 
what  is  known  in  England  as  '  high  life.'  " — From  the  Pre/ace. 

INTS  ABOUT  MEN'S  DRESS:  Right  Prin- 
ciples Economically  Applied.  By  a  New  York  Clubman. 
i8mo.     Parchment-paper,  30  cents. 

A  useful  manual,  especially  for  young  men  desirous  of  dressing  eco- 
nomically and  yet  according  to  the  canons  of  good  taste. 


H 


New  York:   D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  1,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


r 


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